


Mithridatismus

by Reyanth



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Ancient Lilia, Aphrodisiacs, Bees, Education, Love Triangles, M/M, Pet play?, Poisoning, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Sex Magic, Sibling Incest, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 59,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: Mithridatismus (German) - Mithridatism is the practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts. The word is derived from Mithridates VI, the King of Pontus, who so feared being poisoned that he regularly ingested small doses, aiming to develop immunity. Mithridate, also known as mithridatium, mithridatum, or mithridaticum, is a semi-mythical remedy with as many as 65 ingredients, used as an antidote for poisoning, and said to be created by Mithridates VI Eupator of Pontus in the 1st century BC.- Divus Crewel is possessive of his student and clandestine lover, Vil Schoenheit, but as others begin to fall prey to Nightraven Academy's sweetest poison, the leash may just slip through his fingers. Who will sup from the chalice, who will outlast the slow-acting intoxicant, and who will take a fatal dose?
Relationships: Divus Crewel/Vil Schoenheit, Farena/Leona Kingscholar, Leona Kingscholar/Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia/Leona Kingscholar, Malleus Draconia/Vil Schoenheit
Comments: 95
Kudos: 184





	1. Teacher's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to what is apparently the first DiVil on Ao3. It's just one of the pairings I expect to play a part in this story and may or may not take precedence, but I've been excited to play with it since the first hints of the affinity between these two began to appear. I also mean to use this story to play with some LeoMaVil triangles and see what takes shape.

Beyond the reflection of violet eyes, the figure of a man painted the glass in monochromes trimmed with red. Half-dressed, half-indecent, he cut an imposing figure, even when sleeping soundly.

Vil watched him for a while before redirecting his focus to applying a pale lilac above his eyes. It was easier to ignore complications when one devoted oneself to one's task. There was no need to think about the forbidden nature of his intimate relationship with the man on the bed, nor what effect it would have on his reputation. There was no need to wonder what a certain tail-swishing ruffian would think of the affair. There was certainly no need to contemplate what it meant to betray his true feelings in exchange for empty sex, no matter how extraordinary. All he had to do was paint neat little arcs and blend them carefully until the gradient of deep purple to candied flowers was nothing short of artistic perfection.

After eyeshadow came hair. Neat little twists to frame his face with an innocence he hadn't felt in years. Was anybody really fooled? Did they all know he was pure poison on the inside? Divus had certainly known. He never hesitated for a moment before taking Vil to bed as a first-year, as if he inherently understood that Vil wasn't like the other students whose youth was synonymous with naivety.

Surveying his handiwork, Vil put his complicated thoughts aside. Even though he was the epitome of beauty without, he still felt tainted within, and he couldn't allow it to show. He had to put up a mask so perfect, no one would ever suspect the cracks spreading beneath it. That was just a matter of fact.

Walking over to the bed, Vil leaned over his sleeping lover, tucking a fall of hair behind his ear. 

"I'm going to class," he murmured.

Even that soft statement was enough to wake the keen-eared Divus. Opening his seductive grey eyes, the professor lay still and watched Vil straighten up.

"Back to playing the honor student?" he drawled.

"I am an honor student," Vil replied. 

"What you are...is a teacher's pet."

Pulled down onto the bed, Vil straddled his professor to save his balance, his heart racing.

"Don't," he gasped. "I just finished getting ready. You'll ruin my make-up."

Between Vil's thighs jutted a bulge that shifted against him with every slight motion, and he was quickly flushed with heat despite his show of reluctance. He had to extract himself and get to his afternoon class before he lost his nerve.

"Come now," Divus crooned, stroking Vil's hip in a way that made his student squirm. "Be a good boy, now."

Gritting his teeth, Vil slapped his hands down on either side of Divus' head. "I'm not a good boy, and I don't intend to start now." Leaning down, he let his lips hover over ruby red buds for a moment before swiftly peeling away and putting the bed behind him. He walked right out without looking back, because the collar known as desire would slip right back over his neck the moment he saw what he was leaving behind.

Divus Crewel might be dirty and manipulative, but he was also devastatingly stunning and dangerously alluring, particularly when freshly awoken from a post-coital nap all disheveled and aroused. Vil knew he wouldn't have the resolve to walk away a second time.

*

Vil's escape was disappointing, but not unfortunate. While Divus could get away with much where his overawed and cowed classes were concerned, he did not approve of tardiness any more than he approved of sloppiness, and disliked setting such an example. Even so, he frequently found himself making exceptions for Vil. Any true student of alchemy—and even a professor was a lifelong student in that discipline—would be swayed by the impeccable symmetry and perfection that sang in every line and curve of Vil Schoenheit's form and visage.

Himself having made many alchemical exchanges to maintain his youthful appeal, Divus was inherently jealous of the natural youth and beauty Vil possessed, but as long as he himself was in possession of Vil, he could endure it. The moment he had laid eyes on his prized student, he had felt a craving for ownership that never diminished. In fact, it only strengthened, and whether Vil knew it or not, Divus had exerted his influence to ensure that other students, or even members of staff, kept their hands off his claim.

There were only two who would dare to challenge him, but dragons were slow to wake, and Malleus Draconia had not yet discovered the temptation before his very eyes, while Leona Kingscholar was a master of denying his true desires. It was only a matter of time, however, until those two young men naturally chose to take part in the game reserved for them—one that Divus had been playing for some time now—and Vil himself realized the true power at his fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is little more than a conceptual prologue for a story that will probably take shape little by little over quite a long time. If you're interested, I hope you join me for the ride. I'm as much a passenger as you are!


	2. Nourishing Nightshade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for this chapter! I confess, I stole the Dwarven Roulette from a Tenipuri fic of mine. It just belongs here, though.

Malleus Draconia. If there was a more insufferable being in the known realms, Vil had yet to find them. Only Malleus could make Vil seethe from beginning to end of a lecture on Djinn warfare by answering every question raised by other students, which their professor directed to the suspiciously ageless fae prince.

The most irritating part was that Vil knew the answers, too, and he could at least prove he hadn't lived through the Djinn Wars. It was so belittling to have his diligent study disregarded in favor of someone who had probably never cracked a book in his life. In fact, if he ever had studied, Vil was sure that Malleus' retainers had fetched, held, and recited from the books while Malleus lounged about plucking the wings off of tiny fairy folk and laying them on his tongue like little feats of spun sugar.

Well, maybe that last part was an accusation conjured of vindictive jealousy, but the rest was probably true. Long story short, Vil could not stand Malleus Draconia, what with his flawless ivory skin, silken hair like ravenglass, and regal bearing... He was basically a monster.

"No accordance was ever reached on laws barring Djinn warfare. In groups of two, you will make a presentation exploring the reasons why this particular form of warfare is no longer in practice despite remaining legal. You will pair off as follows..." Professor Trein proceeded to delegate pairs, and Vil waited intently, hoping his partner would not be dead weight—or, at least, would leave the planning and execution to him. "...Draconia and Schoenheit..."

A chill went through Vil at that announcement. Anyone else, he could mold to his will. Even the lazy Leona would gladly agree to leave the project in his hands. Malleus...was a problem.

The last ten minutes of class were given over to partner planning. Stubbornly, Vil sat back and waited for Malleus to come to him.

"I'm looking forward to working with you," Malleus said, so stiffly that it was obvious he couldn't possibly mean it.

"Well I'm not," said Vil, coldly. "In fact, I'm sure you would also prefer to work alone and split the presentation down the middle. We'll decide an overall stance and then go our separate ways. That way, you won't have to lower yourself to collaborating with a lesser being."

The expression on Malleus' porcelain face was predictably sour. He glared down his nose at Vil, voiced an agreement, and then suggested they meet the following evening to consolidate their theme before stalking off.

He even sulked exquisitely.

*

After a frustrating day, Vil decided that his dose of the day was to be more debilitating than fatal. After all, if one was spinning out on a psychadelic journey, it was easy to snuff out what life lingered in the empty shell of the body. It was worth adding such substances into his routine now and again.

Taking a small vile, he squeezed the cap of the eyedropper to draw out a portion of liquid and then forced out several droplets until just one small drip remained. Tincture of Opium was a potent potion that he sampled rarely, preferring to focus on the deadlier poisons to immunize against.

He had begun the practice after coming to Nightraven. As a first year, Vil had been more occupied with fashion and flamboyance than fatal flavorings, though he was well schooled in the types and applications of various poisons. As a result, he had found himself naturally favored by the dorm leader of the day—as Pomfiore used to quip due to a high turnover rate. The exception was Narise and his second in command-cum-lover, Grizalle, the pair of whom would lure Vil to join them at night with talk of tea once their leadership was established.

Things barreled out of control fast. It was the devil himself who masqueraded as the Pomfiore prefect, and he had quickly come to grip Vil’s life in the fist of a reaper.

It had seemed harmless enough. A little Dwarven Roulette to pass one stormy evening when there was little gossip to occupy their tongues; assorted herb and flower teas with one nasty little ingredient sifted through the contents of one cup identical to all the rest.

Curious to get a taste of the famed deadly nightshade and confident that his peers would not truly harm him, Vil had volunteered to take the last, most perilous turn. He had played the first round fairly, breathing in the scents and identifying the cup with the poison before taking a different brew. Grizalle had almost fallen victim with only two cups remaining but an almost imperceptible signal from Narise had warned him off the poisoned cup, leaving it for Vil to sample as he had planned.

The cramps and sickness had been otherworldly.

Narise had taken the utmost care of him, stroking his hair, murmuring to him, and cuddling him like a lifeless doll. Grizalle had taken his lover from behind even as Narise cradled a shuddering Vil and rained sweet kisses on his cheeks and hair.

The next night, Vil had been determined not to show fear when Narise suggested a re-match. He’d had his taste of the sweet, horrifying poison. This time, he would steer clear of it. At Grizalle’s suggestion, Vil took the first cup, shrugging to show them that the order made little difference to him.

Little did he know that, this time, the brew was equal in every cup. The paralytic Narise had prepared took him as swiftly as a wind blows. He was helpless. He couldn’t move or respond, whether he loved or loathed what they did to him—and he experienced plenty of both sentiments.

When life returned to his limbs, Vil had trembled like a leaf in a windstorm. Sandwiched between the two prefects, he had been grateful for their warmth and the solid sense of protection that said he was safe, even if he had no control over his own body.

The next night, Narise stole his control from him in a brand new way. He was presented with a fresh blend of tea—all pretext abandoned—and he drank from the single cup without questioning its contents.

For the next three hours, he had known a passion so fierce and ruthless it was agony even in release. Again, he had shaken uncontrollably when it was all over, this time as a side effect of exhaustion as he lay atop a purring Grizalle.

The nightly capers became a fixture, sometimes leaving Vil an ill, feeble wreck, and sometimes sending him on trips both fantastic and terrible, until he had awoken in Divus' bed—Professor Crewel to him then. The alchemist had been summoned in a panic over a sleep so still and deathly Grizalle had taken his own life in mortification at having driven Vil to his supposed final rest.

But Vil did not die. After hearing of their little games and challenges, Divus determined that it was this very exposure that had caused Vil's body to be able to slow the course of the already slow-acting but often unstoppable powder that had been dusted on Narise's skin for him to lick off. Topically, it induced a pleasant tingle. Ingested, it petrified the heart.

Emboldened by his brush with death, Vil had begun dabbling with various concoctions in secret, until a virulently distilled batch of wyrm's blood had sent him into a wild fury, tearing through the halls like a berserker. Divus had once again come to his rescue, restraining and detoxing him with a herbal purge before his internal organs could ignite like kindling.

The professor had not vilified the fearful first-year, instead announcing with calm aplomb that he would prescribe a course of mithridatism complete with details of specific doses for the remainder of the year, if Vil intended to continue poisoning himself. The fact that they had already slept together in the aftermath of that first incident made it a matter of course for Vil to begin sleeping in Divus' quarters after dosing, and he promised never to do so outside of the professor's observation. Narise had been bitter over Grizalle's pointless death and vindictive towards Vil, lashing out with hostile poisoning attempts right up until Vil won his post with a peerless poison—and perfectly executed assassination.

In second year, Divus allowed Vil to begin preparing the doses under his tutelage. Now, in his third year, Vil had vowed he would only experiment with swift and deadly poisons after conferring with Divus and under observation, but was otherwise permitted to dose in private—a testament to his abilities.

He did, sometimes. Other times—often when playing with less dangerous tinctures as he did that night—he took his mithridital medicine at Divus' vanity before climbing into bed with the man who had honed him. With the opiate crawling through him in a cool, sedative wave, he gave himself over to a slow, sensual seduction. The tincture was mild enough, and his tolerance so high, that it merely enhanced the way he sensed Divus' touch on his skin and sighs at his ear. He saw those sighs like a wending drift of smoke and scented the monochrome beauty of Divus' hair and facial features. As Divus sucked at his nipples, he laughed, tasting diamonds.

It wore off sooner than expected, but by that point, Divus was moving inside of him, and Vil didn't need any sensory enhancement for his world to light up. He clung to the sheets and squeezed his lover between trembling thighs.

Whether under the influence of some drug or poison, or utterly sober, Vil was always enchanted by the decadent, elegant man who had seen and nurtured the potential in him. After all of Narise and Grizalle's games, Divus' touch had seduced him with a refined combination of control and temptation. Then, as now, his body had shaken with the effort to restrain his desire. 

He was more successful now than he had been that first time. Recovering from his paralytic ordeal, yet still weak, Vil had been entirely at Divus' mercy. He had been driven to a devastating orgasm by nothing more or less than those ruby lips ravishing his nipples. 

Just recalling it made his cock twitch, and he twisted and rolled his hips, desperately seeking the friction of Divus' skin. He was rewarded for his silent begging by the familiar treat of long-nailed fingers grasping his length tightly at the base, almost cupping his balls. He whimpered.

"What do you say, little pup?" Divus rumbled in a low, sleepy voice that gave away how close he was himself.

"Please, Professor," Vil rasped, using the favored term of address, as he had been trained. "Please pet me." His voice cracked as Divus began to stroke him on the word 'pet,' betraying his eagerness to finish together.

Just as Divus began to spurt inside of him, a confident thumb rolled over the head of his cock, triggering an orgasm that made Vil's skull prickle with over-stimulation. He melted into the mattress like a puddle as soon as the tension seeped from his limbs.

Some time later, they were both meticulously clean, and Divus lay on his back, buffing his nails, while Vil applied a moisturizer with bee venom to his neck and chin.

"What I wouldn't give for a Djinn of my own," he said, examining his skin and casually floating the topic as he mused that a Djinn could negate the need for his onerous skincare routine.

"A commendable effort," Divus said in succinct, clipped tones. "You just got assigned a presentation on the cessation of Djinn warfare, no?"

Vil pouted as much as his frown-line prevention measures would allow. "Can't we discuss my day and the challenges I face as a student for once?"

Divus' answer was wry. "I won't give you the answers, darling."

Vil turned on the stool, suddenly feeling his earlier frustration rise back to the surface. "I'm not asking you to. I just need someone to run my ideas through, to help me distill them into a purer form."

"Isn't that why you have a partner?" Divus responded, experimentally flicking the pads of his fingers over his smoothly buffed nails. "Even a dullard could suffice for that purpose, no?"

"My partner is Malleus," Vil grumbled. He thought he saw Divus' eyes flash.

"Ah. No wonder you prefer to work alone. A brilliant mind, that one, but not necessarily cohesive to your own cleverness, my pet," said the professor, tucking his nail buffer back into its case and setting it aside. He approached and tipped Vil's chin up toward him. "You don't need help from Draconia...or from me." 

One long, sensual kiss later, Divus was ready to lure Vil back to bed for another round. However, his words had caught in Vil's mind, and the competitive instinct wouldn't allow for any further delay.

It was close to midnight when Vil slipped into the library with a lantern in hand and a note of permission from his lover—always useful when he wanted to get some extra research in when the library was otherwise off limits. 

Vil was taken completely off guard when he discovered he wasn't alone. There, at a table near the biology section, was Malleus, encased in the eerie glow of a hovering orb of green witchlight with his nose so deep in a book he was oblivious to Vil's presence. 

In that moment, everything Vil thought he knew about Malleus Draconia was proven false. He was determined. Maybe even hard-working. Possibly petty.

Whatever his personality, his relaxed, interested, raw expression brought a beauty to his features that absolutely stole Vil's breath. It wasn't a sexual, heated beauty like Divus', but a cool, smooth, and majestic kind.

Vil's frustrated tension dissipated as he stood there, unnoticed, observing the fae prince. Only when it became clear that Malleus was too focused to look up and see him did he slowly make his way over to the table, unsure of what he might say.

*

Thrilled to have the chance to work with someone as brilliant—and popular—as Vil, Malleus was nervous about his approach. He didn't want to come across as giddy and overeager as he felt, but he also didn't want his enthusiasm to go uncited. In the moment, faced with Vil's pristinely beautiful countenance, he found himself uttering a polite stock phrase, and too self-conscious to infuse it with warmth.

He was gutted by Vil's response. In the end, he would be working alone, as usual, and his hopes of getting to know the clever socialite shriveled up like budding roses doused with herbicide.

At first, he wallowed in defeat and self-pity, but as the curtain of night fell, growing thick and heavy, he came into his own, rediscovering his confidence, strengthened by its wounding. Keen to win Vil over with his academic ingenuity, he took to the library after hours, researching the drawbacks of the Djinn by lamplight and getting lost in the lore.

He was so entranced by his reading that he failed to notice he had company until nimble fingers played over his hair. He finished reading his sentence and glanced up to find Vil standing over him with a soft, confused look in his eyes.


	3. Laudanum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Tags and relationships have been updated to include a background pairing between Leona and Farena.

Vil didn't know what came over him. He was taken aback to find Malleus studying alone in the dark of the night, so focused and yet so melancholy, and instead of processing that surprise, he was drawn into a moment outside of time.

His fingers drifted out to touch silky black hair, gently exploring the texture and consistency of those fine, strong black strands. Malleus didn't react at first, but when those fierce, reptilian eyes turned up at him, Vil was captured by their wild charm. He took a slow, deep breath and let it out, still entranced as he drew more air into his lungs. Little by little, his hand crept upward, causing Malleus' hair to bunch up like a beehive, but then his fingers curled curiously about one of the abstract horns rising out from that black wave. 

There was something so personal about touching those dark and twisted horns. Like the skin of a viper, they felt nothing like the sleek satin they resembled. As Vil ran his fingers slowly up and down one warped and twisted protrusion, he realized he was caressing raw bone.

For a suspended eternity, Malleus' vulnerability was real and intoxicating. Vil felt as though one strong tug could send the fae prince crashing to the floor. He seemed almost petrified, but there was a fierce glint in his eyes that warned he was giving Vil his trust, and there would be retribution if that trust was broken.

The sense of power that crested in Vil wouldn't allow that. He was too fascinated by the subtle magnetism between them in that soft, silent moment.

Then Malleus stood, and the power dynamic turned on its head. Malleus was intense, tall, and imposing, and Vil almost lost his balance, holding on tight as his hand fell to an unexpectedly sturdy bicep. He felt Malleus' arms come around him and the desire that hit him shook his core.

For a split second, he was the vulnerable one. In the back of his mind was the knowledge that his hair was down and unkempt, and his make-up stripped. He was wearing moisturizer, lip gloss, and nothing more. He jerked, pushing Malleus' arms away and stumbling backwards at once, feeling as though he'd been violated in a way that eclipsed any sexual interaction. His arms came up around his body in a motion so defensive he immediately forced them down to his sides, squaring his shoulders and elongating his neck line. He almost snapped at Malleus for touching him, but his tongue was stilled by the fact that he had touched Malleus first.

Malleus didn't seem inclined either to apologize, or to address the coincidence of their mutual inclination to burn the midnight oil instead of waiting for their planned strategy session. Thus, loathe to be the one to bend, Vil turned on his toe and walked off into the stacks to find a book or two he could take back to his room.

He felt as though he was wrapped in cobwebs, and his skin tingled until he was well on his way to his dorm. He couldn't quite shake the feel of Malleus' eyes on him...or the memory of the naked trust he'd glimpsed in them.

It was almost as if Malleus wanted to know him, as if he was almost...shy, and lonely.

*

The morning was young, and crisply fresh. It smelled of dew and sang of birds, and the worms and bugs slithering or scurrying back into the dark, earthen places. It was a pleasant time, and it conspired to lull the wakeful back into the cradle of sleep. Instead, Leona dressed resignedly and made his way toward an unlikely destination.

If there was one place Leona didn't go too often, it was the library. When he was younger, he'd loved reading, and he spent hours upon hours sitting on the floor with his back against a shelf and his nose in a book...but a love of reading did not a king of the jungle make—nor of the pridelands.

His older brother, Farena, was always active and excelled at sports and athletics. Though Leona was just as naturally skilled, he felt himself falling further and further behind as Farena trained and he read. Praise for the royal heir's strong physique and sporting prowess rang in Leona's young ears, causing him to feel restless if he sat still for too long. He began spending less and less time reading, and more and more time working off his stress outdoors in an effort to catch up to his brother. By the time he enrolled at Nightraven, he loathed stuffy spaces and felt uncomfortable surrounded by the books that had once given him joy but now needled him with guilt and uncertainty.

When he did need to consult a book or two for his studies, he tended to slip into the library when it was quiet and spirit his study material out under his vest. Going through the borrowing process was not only a pain in the ass, it also meant he was accountable for any grass stains or dirt smudges that might find their way onto the neat, white pages when one read in the comfort of one's favorite napping spots.

It was a covert morning trip to return one such unofficially borrowed book on the origins of magic shift that led to a heart-stopping discovery. One was just never fully prepared to find Malleus Draconia face down in a book, drooling and oblivious.

Without a doubt, it was the single-most bizarre and adorable thing Leona had ever laid eyes upon. Was he shocked? Absolutely. Was he baffled? Not at all.

As it happened, Leona had long been aware that there was a sweet, goofy side to Malleus that most people never quite noticed. They were too busy being blinded by self-inflicted intimidation.

To begin with, it had annoyed the hell out of Leona, because his bad-boy reputation was losing out to a first-year, and a poser at that... But upon closer observation, he began to see that Malleus was just a very genuine person whose disconnect between a dark and dangerous aura, and a shy, awkward personality was mistaken for aloof disinterest. It was a fascinating thing to observe, and before he knew it, Leona was observing frequently and falling hard for that charming personality.

Thus it was that he stopped and grinned for a little while before tucking the view of the sleeping prince away in his memory even as he tucked the secreted book into in a random stack and left Malleus there, either to awaken on his own in time or get caught breaking the rules. Just because Leona had a crush on the big lug didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy seeing the vaunted prince of the Valley of Thorns get reamed for sneaking into the library and defacing school property with his noble drool. It wasn't like any of the academy staff would dare to punish him, anyway. He'd probably get let off with a nervous scolding at best, so let him sleep a little longer and face the consequences.

Leona, meanwhile, had an early workshop to get to. It was the reason he was up so early to begin with. Well, technically, Ruggie's tail-pull wake-up call was responsible, since Leona would never voluntarily get out of bed while the birds were still bitching about the sunrise, but the Ruggie alarm was the result of the workshop Leona was required to attend. Because he was "so very kind" (as he claimed so often and loudly), the headmaster had mandated that Leona attend every voluntary third-year workshop in order to ensure that he would not be held back a third time at the end of his latest attempt at third-year.

Sleepy as he was, catching Malleus in such a raw, unfiltered moment put Leona in a bright enough mood that he wasn't bitter about the early hour or the workshop he personally considered boring and unnecessary. That should have been omen enough that his world was about to be shaken.

Leona had been around long enough to remember the scandalous rumors surrounding a relationship between Divus Crewel and a Pomfiore fourth year, graduated the year before Leona arrived at Nightraven. The rumors had never been substantiated, and with the student graduated, they faded into myth and out of collective recollection.

Yet, Leona remembered, and he had long harboured suspicions about the way the alchemist looked at first-year Vil Schoenheit. It wasn't his problem, and he wasn't exactly one to judge, so he ignored the developing signs of Vil's affair with the professor, and made a point of forgetting he'd ever cared.

However, what subtle signs he had glimpsed through the years paled in comparison to what he witnessed after the strange morning workshop on antidotes utilizing venom, during which Vil was uncommonly quiet and withdrawn. Instead of flaunting his aptitude with pointed questions and inspired tips, the potion-making prima donna silently followed the instructions as given, dodging Professor Crewel's attempts to fish for input.

The other third-years taking part in the workshop may not have recognized the professor's sharp, predatory intent, but Leona certainly did. Crewel was fixated on Vil, and the more Vil withdrew, the more focused Crewel grew.

Trying to ignore whatever was unfolding, Leona focused on himself—and how damn sleepy he was getting now that the adrenaline of having his tail yanked and the amusement of catching Malleus unawares was fading. An ill-timed yawn and outstretched hand knocked a vile of toad venom sacks to the floor, causing him to be scolded like a pathetic pooch and ordered to clean them up by hand.

Once he was down on the floor, he sneakily used magic to gather up the sacks and curled up around the banked fire at the base of his cauldron for a little cat-nap. Professor Crewel must have forgotten him completely—a sure sign of the distraction Vil was driving him to—because when Leona blearily got back up again, he was alone in the room with Crewel and Vil—who were up against the stone wall, liplocked.

For just a moment, Leona watched, his brain frozen. The instinct to call them out warred with his instinct to pretend he never saw anything and just get on with his day. Yet, instead of the customary indifference, he felt the telltale tug of flattened ears against his cranium and recognized that he was not pleased. When he thought of Vil's mood throughout the workshop, he reluctantly found he had reason for concern and tried to identify signs of rejection from the model student, but Vil's long fingers were wrapped around the professor's skull in definitive invitation.

"I've just got something on my mind," Vil whispered, making Leona's ears twitch.

"You left me hanging last night, darling. Did you find what you were looking for in the library?"

All at once, Leona was bombarded with pure discomfort that sent him slinking out of the room before he could overhear any more. He didn't want to know. It wasn't any of his business who or what Vil did, and if Crewel wanted to bang his students, Leona had worse secrets in his closet. He had no right to judge.

So why the hell did it bother him so damn much?

*

Hardly having slept, Vil wasn't himself, and a morning workshop instead of the usual free period didn't improve matters. It was a special elective open to third years—optional to all except for Leona who was under the headmaster's generous orders lest he find himself repeating third year again. In short, Vil could skip it if he chose to...but that would be a blight on his immaculate reputation. If he showed the slightest sign of weakness, he would invite scrutiny and challenge, and end up another mere epitaph in the annals of Pomfiore leadership. So he got out of bed and began his beauty routine.

Tired as he was, he wasn't aware of how unusual his behavior seemed until Divus began prodding him to answer questions he would normally preempt. It wasn't just the lack of sleep getting to him, but also his confusing reaction to Malleus, and how uncomfortable that made him feel—particularly in the combined presence of his lover and his secret crush. His mind kept drifting about, tackling issues such as how he would interact with Malleus when the time came to meet up and discuss their assignment, but also getting tangled in the messy plaits and matted strands of Leona's dark, wild hair, or catching on Divus' tame, nude lips. They'd been together long enough that he no longer felt confused by their public front as professor and star pupil, but with the fog of dreams curling around between memories of the previous night and the strong, authoritative man hovering nearby, Vil was feeling more lost than he ever remembered being. He was wonderfully haunted by the memory of ruby lipstick sliding over his throat and down his chest.

It was a tough morning for Vil, mentally, and he was glad to put it behind him. After the workshop, he hung over his cauldron, taking in the lingering fumes of sharp, pungent eucalyptus that gave his senses a kick. As he'd half hoped, Divus approached him as soon as the room was clear, pushing his hair out of his face and smoothing it down.

"Give me one reason not to give you the lash," the man murmured with soft, dark intent.

Vil felt his knees go weak and pulled Divus by the gloves as he backed up to the wall for stability. He tucked those hands around his waist, willing Divus to kiss him. He needed it, but he wouldn't beg. He didn't care if he would have to scrub off his make-up and redo it when his pale lilac lip gloss smeared all over his mouth and chin. He didn't even think of it. All he thought of was messy, long brown hair...and green eyes—green, reptilian eyes.

He moaned aloud as Divus ground against him, taking his lips with a ferocious possession that melted his loins. There was no mistaking that kiss, no pretending it originated from anyone else. Leona could never bestow such refinement. Malleus could never infuse such heat. It was exactly what Vil needed. It calmed him; grounded him. He relaxed, rolling his hips and reaching up to feel Divus' hair under his fingers, overwriting the imprinted memory of Malleus' dark, silky locks and rough, bone horns.

"I've just got something on my mind," he whispered, his lips sliding against Divus' as he spoke.

The dominating air lifted as Divus pressed their lips together softly and then leaned back. "You left me hanging last night, darling. Did you find what you were looking for in the library?" His tone was light, but Vil knew he was convinced something had happened—and it had. 

As he drew breath to explain...something—he wasn't entirely sure what—a sudden burst of motion across the room caught his eye. He clammed up as he watched Leona slink out the door. The lion prince was so quiet, Divus never noticed, his eyes trained firmly on Vil.

Panic threatened, but Vil's survival instinct kicked in and he pushed it aside. One thing at a time.

"I ran into Malleus," he said, side-stepping and wiping the lipgloss from under his nose with a spelled kerchief he kept in a pocket of his robe. "It annoyed me that he beat me to the library and was actually making an effort to study so I ended up taking some books back to my room and I didn't get any sleep. I'm tired. Irritated... But I still need to get through a flying lesson before our study session, so I'd better go fix my face." As he began his sudden, swift withdrawal, he felt the suspicion in Divus' eyes. He stopped and wiped his lips again before turning a smile up at his lover. "Thank you," he said, with the full weight of his charm. "That was what I needed."

Smirking with a casual sort of confidence, Divus stepped up to him and took off a glove, wiping his thumb across the corner of Vil's lip and the dip above his chin. He made a show of inspecting for more flaws and then pulled his glove back on.

"There. I'll see you tonight, then."

Vil almost agreed automatically, but then he shook his head. "Tomorrow," he said, breathless with his defiance. "I'm so tired."

"Tomorrow," Divus agreed—with such benevolence that it was clearly a bestowal of permission and not resigned approval.

Vil could only feel grateful as he made for the door, his mind already shifting to Leona. They had flying lessons together. Even if he rushed his make-up, Vil would be late, but he had to find a way to address what he was sure Leona had seen and find out what that meant for he and Divus.

Unfortunately, the damn cat-boy was a professional when it came to avoidance. Not once did he meet Vil's eyes, nor was he shy or awkward about it. He just didn't look Vil's way, as if he didn't need to. He was consistently on the other end of the field from Vil, or in the air while Vil was on the ground, and vice versa, and he managed it without ever looking like he was working at putting distance between them. For all his efforts, Vil couldn't catch him until they all retired to the locker room, and then they were in such close quarters with the rest of the class that every word spoken was guaranteed to be overheard

Vil was getting desperate, and he despised desperation like nothing else. He had no choice but to follow hot on Leona's tail and wait for an opportunity. It came quicker than he expected, and he was simultaneously nervous and excited when he tailed Leona into the greenhouse where they could be completely alone for the very first time. It was something Vil had fantasized about. 

Not that he could afford to be distracted. He had to focus on the fact that Leona had seen him with Divus and overheard a telltale moment. He could do anything with what he now knew. He could ruin Vil's reputation and Divus' career. This wasn't the time to be blinded by lust.

If Leona had known he was following, there was no sign of it. The lion prince was sprawled out on a carpet of moss, his tail flicking lazily enough to warn that he was awake but still indicate he was relaxed. It stilled as Vil approached, testament to his superior hearing.

"If you go away and let me have my nap, I won't tell anyone you're a kinky bitch. Or that you're fucking Crewel."

Maybe that was all Vil needed to hear. Maybe he could turn around and walk away, and all his problems would be solved. If he trusted Leona—or at least believed that ratting him out was too much effort for a lazy lion—there was no need to waste another moment here when he should have been heading to meet Malleus.

He might have left, as common sense dictated...if the relaxation Leona exuded hadn't begun seeping into his bones. Before Vil could even formulate a response, he was blinking off sleep.

The temperate atmosphere and the soothing scents and sounds of nature made the world seem fuzzier and less awkward. All he wanted was to lay his head down on Leona's chest and leave the drama to others. He didn't want to think about what could happen if Leona chose to out his relationship with Divus, and he definitely didn't want to face Malleus Complicated Draconia. Worn as he was from a sleepless night, all he wanted...was to lay down the dead weight that was his head. To sleep. To dream.

*

Leona didn't know what was happening. He was sleepy and slow to react, but his body tensed when Vil came at him. However, instead of trying to grapple or strangle him, Vil burrowed against him and moaned softly in a way that made Leona question how he felt about the primped prima donna.

He'd never particularly liked Vil. Most of the guys in school who shared his persuasion lusted after the model's face and physique, but Leona had always had his eye on the dark and powerful Malleus. Vil, with all his clean-cut good looks, just wasn't Leona's type.

Or so he'd thought. Because the moment he saw all of the walls drop as Vil's features relaxed, and the moment that one, unguarded moan of relief hit his ears...his body contradicted everything he thought he knew.

He couldn't even begin to comprehend why the perfect, upstanding Vil Shoenheit was napping on his chest on the greenhouse ground in the middle of the day...and now he was getting kinda hard and struggling to shut down a very counterproductive train of thought. He just stared at the deftly painted, purple eyelids and long, tinted lashes resting against pale skin. He marveled at the softly parted lips, barely purpled with gloss. He imagined kissing them, and having complete rein over them for a moment before Vil woke and slapped him sharply across the face. He imagined it might be worth it.

And then Vil's brows knit ever so slightly closer together, and Leona knew that the beautiful young man was troubled, and it bothered him. Irritated by his own untimely bout of sympathy, Leona flopped back to the ground and pillowed his head, listening to Vil breathe.

Did Professor Crewel see this rare side of Vil when they were together? This baffling innocence and startlingly naive trust? The thought almost made Leona want to rip the man's throat out.

All thoughts of reclaiming his nap disappeared then, because Leona could no longer blame the physical circumstances for his inconvenient erection when it became blatantly clear to him that he was jealous—and protective. Except... That would imply that he liked Vil; that he actually had feelings for the narcissistic fop...

How, though, when he knew without a doubt that Malleus had stolen his heart years ago? Was he further over that old crush than he thought? Was he just holding on to the familiar?

He imagined just for a moment that it was Malleus' cheek nuzzled against his sternum, the tip of one curled horn grazing his chin... His hard-on began to throb a little and his breathing quickened, dashing that theory. Then Vil wriggled back against his arm a little, obviously entirely unaware that he was doing so, and Leona automatically draped his arm over that slim body, his breath catching in his throat at the sheer luxury of embracing physical perfection.

It wouldn't be the first time he experienced physical attraction to someone his heart held enmity towards. It wouldn't be the last time he lay passively while a man he both resented and desired lay claim to his body. This, at least, was decidedly less exhausting an invasion of privacy than he was used to.

For a good forty minutes or so, he lay there in a confused haze of lust, bewilderment, and contentment. He wondered if Vil was aware of what he was doing, and how he would react if Leona kissed him. Was that what Vil wanted? Was that what this was all about?

As much as he wished he could believe it and make the most of things, Leona didn't think so. Something was off with Vil today. From his withdrawal throughout the morning workshop to his unfocused flying to this very situation. Clearly, he was tired, but behind that was obviously some deep-seated stress that was taking its toll.

Did it have something to do with Professor Crewel? Even someone as poised and confident as Vil must have doubts about seeing a teacher... And now their secret was out.

Not that Leona would tell anyone. At first, he'd thought it was because he didn't really care, but the fact of the matter was that the revelation of this secret would likely harm Vil, and that wasn't something Leona wanted to do.

Feeling just a little guilty—and significantly reluctant—Leona eased Vil onto his back on the ground when he realized how deeply the model was sleeping. He didn't want to be around when Vil woke up. Whether it was irrational anger to hide shame at having shown such vulnerability, or sweet, shy embarrassment that made Leona want to kiss someone he knew for a fact was already taken, matters were guaranteed to get complicated. It was better for them both if Leona just took off before they had to deal with any awkward aftermath.

However... Something made Leona slip off his vest and slide it under Vil's head to protect that delicate, pretty hair. It was one thing for Leona to roll around in the dirt and feel the earth all around him. It was quite another to let Vil get dirt in his immaculately kept locks.

On a whim, Leona paused once Vil's head was neatly cushioned and his hair tidily arranged around his face. Just once... Just for the fantasy of it... He brushed his lips over Vil's in a feather-light kiss that left him tingling and made his pulse race.

He rushed off, then, and didn't look back to see if his audacity had awakened the sleeping model. He suddenly wanted very badly to see Malleus, and remind himself of the familiar feelings he harbored for the fae prince that were comfortable in a well-worn kind of way.

Instead, he skipped class altogether and used his royal, diplomatic privilege, to take a portal back home for the afternoon. If Farena was surprised to see him, the king didn't show it in public, under the adoring eyes of his subjects. The moment they were behind closed doors, though, he had other things on his mind.

As angry with his own weakness as Farena's unapologetic assault on his flesh, Leona thought of Malleus...and then of Vil, and he let himself be swept away in a stampede of sensation until he could think of nothing but the blinding brilliance of the sun rising in his loins.

*

Even knowing that Vil was famous for making what people called a "fashionably late" entrance, Malleus made sure to arrive at the library early for the study period known as "free spell," lightly fed and ready to work. He wanted to prove to Vil that he was a worthy partner and a team player—especially after scaring Vil off the previous night, in typical Malleus fashion.

He'd simply lost his head at seeing the unguarded beauty on Vil's face while touching his horns. He didn't often let people near them. They were sensitive in that he felt only the pressure at their base, where they rooted into his skull, and so he was vulnerable. Someone touching his horns could be doing anything to them and he wouldn't know they were being harmed until pain struck the raw nerves, like damaged teeth. Teeth, though, were protected inside of the mouth. Malleus' horns were fierce and dangerous, but they were also exposed. Allowing anyone to touch them was a profound mark of trust, and he had felt closer to Vil in that moment than anyone other than Lillia. It stunned him.

He was so moved, he had almost done something so spontaneous and emotional he was still shocked, 12 hours later. As he stood, he'd imagined himself leaning in to press his lips to Vil's. Then, Vil had stumbled and Malleus' arms came up around that slim body, and it felt right. Holding Vil felt right. Malleus didn't really understand the sensations that rose up in him when he caught Vil in his arms but he enjoyed them—right up until he was shucked and rejected.

He knew he had overstepped. He knew he'd made Vil uncomfortable. All he could do now was make it right by working hard to ensure that this pair assignment was a success so Vil wouldn't feel any more regret than he already did.

He didn't wait for Vil to arrive, but got started plotting out his proposal, instead. He was a firm believer in the concept of actions speaking louder than words.

His premise for his portion of the assignment was to set the scene for whatever Vil chose to base his speech on by going into the misconceptions of Djinn power that made them a far less reliable resource or weapon than they were considered to be early on in the Djinn Wars. Essentially, they were largely misunderstood as a race, and that led to widespread misuse of their abilities that often proved detrimental to those who wielded them. Focusing on the facts as opposed to the fiction should mesh nicely with Vil's selected explanation for Djinn warfare falling out of favor.

When he was done with the outline, Vil still hadn't arrived, so Malleus began mocking up some illusion spells for the visual component of the presentation. He rather enjoyed designing the various Djinn models, down to the decorative detail on their jewelry and cuffs. To one pearlescent red Djinn he gave a nose ring with chains linking down to his cuffed wrists. Another wore its cuffs on its upper arms, linked by a fine, draping web of chains to a collar fastened about its neck, as he'd seen in an illustration during his late-night research. He made that one an appealing light purple. It almost reminded him of Vil...which led to imagining that elaborate bondage piece about the neck of a naked and aroused Vil.

The image was so vivid and so specific that Malleus felt like everyone in sight must be able to see how dirty and sullied he was. He tried to banish the thought, but it was hard to distract himself after that. At least, until Silver approached him and asked if he planned to skip his final class of the day.

Surprised to see his retainer, who he expected to be in class during his own free spell period, Malleus was shocked and disheartened to realize that free spell had already ended...and Vil had never shown up

*

The greenhouse nap only made Vil feel worse.

Upon waking, he was muddled and seemed drained of energy. His bed called to him louder than ever before, but stubborn pride walked him to his afternoon classroom. Aside from the physical lethargy, he was also emotionally raw. He'd felt wonderful, falling asleep with Leona, only to awaken abandoned on the ground. He wanted to believe that the vest tucked under his head indicated Leona might have some fond feelings for him, but he couldn't shake off the profound sense of loneliness and rejection that had hit him upon waking.

Compounding his misery, it wasn't fashionable to miss a whole thirty minutes of class time, and he was disappointed in himself, but he was even more disheartened by the instantaneous understanding that he had missed the free spell study session altogether. He hated showing weakness, and now Malleus would think he was a coward. Part of him wanted to track the prince down and explain—casually and unapologetically—that he had decided it best to get some rest and they could reschedule for tomorrow. A greater part of him knew he was better off staying far away from Malleus until he had gotten proper, restorative sleep and sorted out his confusion.

Once class finished, he made for his room, avoiding anyone and everyone who tried to engage with him along the way—which was almost everyone. He just wanted to be alone. 

When he reached the sanctity of his bedroom, Vil's eyes were immediately drawn to an object he had no memory of. Sitting on his dresser with a red ribbon tying a note around it was a little bottle reading:

_Dream deep tonight._

Vil did not drink strange potions left anonymously, with or without notes, but the ruby red lipstick mark that signed it was unmistakable, and the little crystal bottle with its faceted coffin silhouette was straight out of one of Divus' collections. Even so, he hesitated. The size and shade of the lipstick mark could be forged with some effort. Even if the origin was genuine, the contents could be switched. Or, they could be exactly as originally bottled and still prove murderous in intent. As unlikely as it was that Divus would choose to poison him fatally now, and so blatantly, nothing was certain.

For once, Vil didn't care. He was just too worn out. Whatever was in the bottle, he wanted to throw caution to the wind and live on the edge. If it was true poison, he would find out just how effective his daily dosing would prove. If it was a gift from Divus, he would likely get the undisturbed sleep he craved.

Popping the cork, Vil downed the contents in one, without pausing to analyze scent, flavor, or texture. He'd know soon enough if he had been betrayed.


	4. Dragon's Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a lot of license with Divus' background and Malleus' overblott in this chapter.
> 
> (No dalmations were harmed in the writing of this fic.)

Sauntering out of his alchemy class at a lazy pace to compensate for various aches and pains from his spontaneous visit with Farena, Leona was ill equipped to contend with a rigidly postured Vil standing right across from the doorway. He tried, anyway, to veer off and ignore his would-be stalker, but he was headed off after two steps and forced to make eye contact.

"Can we talk?" Vil asked, his eyes wandering a little in a surprising lack of control.

Leona would have immediately shut Vil down if he wasn't so intrigued by the pull his unbuttoned white shirt seemed to have.

"What did you have in mind? The weather sucks, today. I'm happy to bitch about it for another minute or two..."

"Not here," Vil muttered, glancing around furtively.

Feeling the upper hand, Leona smirked. "You seemed to like the greenhouse well enough. I'm up for a nap if you are."

Just as a rosy blush started to show through Vil's light foundation, a deep, silken voice interrupted from the threshold of the classroom behind them. "Don't you have somewhere else to be, Kingscholar? And you, Schoenheit. You have a class, I presume, that isn't here. Or do you have some business with me? Hmm?"

"N-no, Professor. I just...wanted to return something to Leona," Vil stuttered, losing his composure more spectacularly than Leona could have imagined.

"Well? Go on then, return it."

Leona twisted around to see Crewel lounging against the doorway in as risque a pose as he could pull of without crossing a line. No wonder Vil was whipped. The man was pure sex appeal when he wanted to be.

"You left this," Vil gushed, thrusting out a brown paper package tied neatly with a thin, red ribbon. "In the locker room. After class. Yesterday. Your vest."

"Ah. That explains the incomplete uniform," Crewel sneered, his eyes ravishing Leona's compromised figure while his tone diminished it. "If I see you without a vest again, it will be two strikes. Don't test me, Kingscholar."

Snarling, Leona snatched the package and tried to stalk away, but an ache from within hobbled him and he could only straighten his back and walk away at a crawl with his dignity clutched around him in tatters. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Divus Crewel didn't give a damn what he wore. That threat was thinly veiled jealousy.

"Leona, are you all—?"

"A word, Schoenheit?" the sleazy professor demanded, allowing Leona to slink off unimpeded.

He did feel a little belated guilt at having toyed with Vil instead of just going somewhere private as requested. Vil's improvisation surely read to the professor as a lie, although he'd only really fudged the truth a little. Not that Leona cared if the illicit lovers got into a spat over him... He just didn't want to get in the middle of anything. It was too much of a hassle.

Ignoring the ribbon and tearing open the package so he could get his vest on before drawing another teacher's unwanted attention, he was hit by a waft of violet scent that made him sneeze. It was a nice smell in small doses, but when it hit the nose like a bomb... His vest reeked of violets.

"You dropped this."

Too late, Leona became aware of his surroundings, and of Malleus Draconia, holding out the red ribbon that must have come undone when he pulled his vest free of the package. His nostrils flaring slightly, Malleus stepped close with a soft smile that completely disarmed the grumpy lion.

"Here."

Frozen with uncertainty, Leona could only stand straighter as Malleus leaned toward him and selected a plait around which to tie the ribbon. A tiny, pleased hum sounded by Leona's ear, making him want to groan in response.

"You smell really good," Malleus breathed, his fingers sliding down the length of the plait. His tone was uncommonly dangerous, as if something hungry lurked just beneath the surface.

His cheeks heating, Leona stepped back and shrugged on the vest, finding he didn't mind the violet cologne so much now that the fresh air had sapped some of the concentration. He tucked his hands behind his neck and lifted his hair out from under his garment, the plait with the red ribbon coming to rest just within his line of sight.

Confusion beset Leona once the initial thrill of proximity faded. Malleus liked how he smelled, and that felt wonderful...but it wasn't his scent. It was the cologne selected by Vil. He was a fool to let his hopes rise, even for an instant. Even so, his pulse was racing, and his heart felt light. It was a new and dazzling sensation.

"You haven't seen Vil Schoenheit, have you?"

Plummeting from elation to despair in an instant, Leona let slip a feral growl.

"Try the alchemy lab," he snapped, brushing past Malleus and continuing on his way. He scrunched up the empty wrapping paper as he went, taking his frustrations out on it with an appeasing crunch before turning it to sand that streamed away between his fingers.

It wasn't as if he had spilled Vil's secret. If the professor and his young lover were talking demurely with their hands to themselves, they had nothing to worry about. If Crewel was acting rashly out of misguided, possessive jealousy... Well, who really knew how Malleus would react?

Belatedly, the question Leona was avoiding began to break through the barrier of his will... Would Crewel's jealousy really be so misguided? That package, so carefully wrapped and doused with Vil's favorite scent... Whether it meant anything or not, it made Leona's heart feel lighter again. He wanted to find some message of favor in the presentation. He wanted reason to believe Vil might like him... That would show Malleus.

It was preposterous, of course. Vil was just returning something that belonged to him. One small kindness for another. Scents and ribbons, and all those frills were just an expression of his over-the-top penchant for social niceties. He was totally extra, and Leona would do well to remember that. There was absolutely no reason to feel indebted or affectionate and backtrack to check on the situation. None.

*

It was stupid. Vil should have thought things through. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't be in this situation.

His first mistake: Not backing off and trying again later when he realized Leona's first class of the day was in the alchemy lab. In retrospect, it was obvious that he shouldn't have handed Leona a wrapped package, infused with personal touches inspired by his feelings, where Divus could easily observe the exchange. He simply wasn't thinking.

Although, one might argue that his first mistake had been in skipping the meeting with Malleus. Or perhaps in napping with Leona in the greenhouse, which caused his absence. He shouldn't have followed Leona at all. He shouldn't have kissed Divus in a public classroom and been caught, and then hid that fact from his lover. He shouldn't have let his guard down around Malleus and put himself in a position to spend a sleepless night, resulting in a disastrous chain reaction...

Whatever the first mistake, he had made many since. Believing that Malleus wouldn't hurt him was one of them.

Terror gripping his heart, he barely leaned back far enough to escape the devastating slash of a jet black horn that didn't seem so sleek and sexy when it was tearing past your eye. Gnashing teeth and slitted eyes, wide with rage, seemed to stretch and grow with every passing moment. Potent magic thickened the air to almost gelatinous consistency, testifying to the sheer immensity of Malleus' well of power, now whipping increasingly out of control.

This was what it looked like when a fae of royal lineage went mad and gave himself over to darkness. This was Malleus Draconia gradually being taken by overblott.

Vil gasped for air, feeling as though his heart were about to stop and his lungs freeze and burn all at once, decimated by the icy cold lightning crackling in fine, green webs through the air. He was moments from falling to his knees, helpless before the draconic terror that had been a man just a few seconds ago. 

Before his body gave out, it was slammed with the force of a battering ram and crashed to the floor, pinned down by a powerful figure. Overhead, a jet of green flame singed the falling tails of a fur coat that settled over Vil's assailant—and savior.

Divus had been torn away from him and tossed across the room as easily as a little puppy. The sound he had made upon impacting the wall had not been so dainty. Now, crouched protectively over Vil, he seemed a force to be reckoned with.

Even so, he cried out, his body shuddering as something tore through his flesh. He arched around the wound, his body convulsing unnaturally. Vil couldn't see past Divus, nor could he think past the crippling fear.

However, as pain filtered through Divus' eyes, seemingly in slow motion, and he began to collapse over Vil, losing consciousness, a spark ignited. Fear, dread, and desperation burst within Vil, and he surged upward, throwing his arms around the man who had protected and guided him, and taught him how to survive. Snarling, he hurled his weight upward and overturned the unconscious professor, whipping his head around to face the beast that spelled their deaths.

As his eyes flashed with fury, hurt, and betrayal...slitted green lamps flashed back...and then, just like that, those eyes and the horns that twisted upward like frozen black flames were all that remained of the draconic visage that had been expanding to fill the battered room.

His expression twisting in anguish, Malleus' knees went out from under him, and as the beautiful fae went crashing to the ground, Vil's heart slammed into his chest wall. He dashed forward on instinct, catching the man who represented his greatest fears. He slid to his knees, encumbered by a dead weight.

Never mind that Malleus had been morphing into a terrifying beast, barely a heartbeat ago. Never mind that Malleus had almost destroyed him, and may very well have killed Divus.

Vil's heart nearly broke when Malleus fell, because it knew no logic. Malleus had not acted out of jealousy, or hate, but from outrage.

In the brief instant before the blott began to swell within him, Malleus had whispered Vil's name, and that whisper had carried upon it both shock and horror...and also hurt. He had walked in on Divus treating Vil to a little day-time S&M. Arms twisted painfully behind his back, bound by magic, knees splayed precariously, Vil had been knelt upon the stone floor, his face crushed to Divus' crotch by a ruthless grip on his hair.

The complacency of daring such an act in a classroom, in broad daylight, without even locking the door... That mistake belonged to Divus, and he had paid the price.

Meanwhile, as he shivered weakly, struggling to hold the limp body in his arms upright, Vil very slowly came to a realization... A green miasma hovered in the air, and with every gasping breath, Vil was sucking poison into his lungs.

His vision blurred. The world tilted. It all began to bleed away like shifting sand.

*

Leona had no idea what he was looking at. The evidence in front of his eyes that some cataclysmic event had occurred was so at odds with the calm and relative quiet of the school that he figured he had to be imagining things.

Then, he sensed the fading barrier spell that must have been quite powerful when it was cast...and so skillfully. As the power that sustained it bled away, Leona could identify the subtle workings that only a master magician could claim.

Too bad Malleus Draconia was apparently too blessed with raw power to even notice a magical roadblock in his way or be hindered by wards of sight and sound. He must have just waltzed right in on whatever Crewel had thought to hide.

Now that the magic was weakened and the caster incapacitated, Leona easily converted the remaining reservoirs of the ward to sand and walked through the doorway, even as Vil crumpled. Clearing the miasma in the air in similar fashion, Leona cautiously approached the three unconscious magicians, his shoes crunching sand beneath his feet. 

He went to Malleus first, rolling his crush into his lap and searching for signs of physical trauma. Finding none, he concluded from the damage done to the room and the fae prince's present state that Malleus had gone into overblott. A twisting clench of guilt prompted Leona to examine Professor Crewel next. He quickly learned that "the worst that could happen" when you casually tempted fate was completely disproportionate to the mind's petty imaginings. The alchemy professor was in bad shape. His body was bruised and broken, and his back torn open. This was Leona's fault. If he hadn't sent Malleus looking...

Choking down bile, Leona turned to observe Vil. So pale he was actually ashen, the Pomfiore dorm leader was barely breathing. 

Malleus would recover. Probably. Crewel's injuries were out of Leona's depth. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something for Vil.

Heavy with sick apprehension, Leona pulled Vil's limbs straight, almost smoothing the long, lanky figure out on the ground. As he did so, Vil's hand fell out of his robes, clutched around a stoppered vile of clear liquid.

Cautiously pulling the stopper, Leona sniffed at it. There was a strong herbal scent. A remedy of some sort? Vil seemed the type to keep antidotes and elixers on his person, but the only reason Leona had to think the contents of this particular vile could be effective was the fact that Vil had been reaching for it when he passed out.

There was no time for hesitation. He tipped a little of the liquid over Vil's lips. After a moment without reaction, he gave in to anxiety and poured the rest. Nothing. Vil didn't even swallow...

Then, a faint gurgle rose up from Vil's throat and Leona realized he was choking. Panicking, he positioned himself at Vil's side and placed his wand horizontally over Vil's heart, crossing his hands over it and bearing down. As he'd been taught since first-year, he channeled a number of raw energy pulses through the wand and into Vil's chest, then leaned down and sealed his lips over Vil's, pushing his breath into strained lungs. This seemed to have an effect, so he repeated the breathing until Vil started coughing. Then, he rolled the ailing prefect onto his side, shuddering as a green fluid pooled beneath Vil's mouth.

Sitting back on his heels, Leona wiped at his cheeks, surprised to find them wet with tears. He supposed he was in shock.

Numbly, he listened to Vil's gasping breaths, then realized he was wasting time and moved back toward Crewel. He felt helpless. 

However, as he stared pathetically at the gaping rents in the professor's back, he realized that they were slowly but surely knitting back together. Though he could not quite comprehend it, something in the back of his mind reminded him that Crewel was an alchemist. While that concept remained rather abstract to Leona, he understood the fundamentals, at least. He simply had never imagined such an incredible application.

"Le...ona...?"

Vil's voice was weak, but Leona was relieved to hear him. He didn't turn just yet, taking a moment to arrange the rapidly healing professor into a more comfortable position and covering up the man's shamefully exposed privates. He could imagine what had been going on there.

"It's going to be okay," Leona promised. "You copped a bit of dragon's breath, but we just have to get you all to the infirmary, and―"

"No―!" Vil gasped, breaking down, coughing. "Nobody can...know about this," he followed up, weakly.

Looking around at the devastation of broken bottles and jars dripping all sorts of potions, along with broken walls and furniture, Leona doubted there could be any hiding this. But Vil's panic was warranted. It wouldn't just be his illicit relationship with Crewel that came to light, but also Malleus' loss of control. That would be a PR nightmare at best for the crown prince...and it would hurt a misunderstood character already feared by merit of sheer, intimidating presence.

There might be one way to explain the destruction... A lazy student who couldn't even pass third year carelessly mixing two volatile potions... He could take the fall. For Malleus...and for Vil... Realizing that Vil was staring with a softness in his eyes at odds with his earlier outburst, Leona began to wonder if the Pomfiore prefect could read minds.

"What?" he snapped, shyly skirting away from direct eye contact.

"You put...the ribbon...in your hair," Vil whispered. A moment later, he slumped slowly to the ground, cushioning his head carefully. "I breathed in a lot," he murmured. "My body's still fighting it."

From what Leona knew of dragon's breath, he was shocked that both Vil and Crewel were even alive. If he'd breathed it in even once, he'd probably be long dead. 

"There's gotta be an antidote here somewhere, right?" Leona asked, gazing around in despair at the wreckage. If he could find the right ingredients, he was fairly confident he could make one from scratch, but it didn't look like there was anything usable in the whole room.

"Don't...need it. Neither does Divus... Malleus is immune... You didn't...breathe any in?" Vil sounded weak. Only his mouth moved as he lay deliberately still, conserving energy.

"No," Leona answered. "But you obviously did. What do you mean, you don't need an antidote?"

"Just need rest... Dragon's breath's...on my regime."

"Regime...? Whatever. You can't stay here," Leona decided. "You and Malleus can't get caught up in this."

"So carry me," Vil sighed. 

"Are you serious...?" Annoyed, Leona went to stand over Malleus. "Oi, Draconia. Wake the hell up and fix your mess." There was no response. "Damn. Fine. You first, princess."

Leona whirled and gathered Vil up in his arms, trying not to get distracted by the little squeak that escaped purpled lips he wasn't sure had any gloss on them at all. He frowned, puzzling over Vil's curious resistance to the fast-acting and potent poison that was dragon's breath. Sure, Malleus wasn't exactly a real dragon, brewing and storing poison for centuries at a time in its cells―at least, Leona hoped that was true―but it was still strange. Professor Crewel, he could understand, considering how fast the man's flesh wounds were healing, but Vil... He was so skinny, so frail. He looked like the type who'd get drunk on a sniff of wine. What was he doing to himself to fortify against a poison Leona's strong constitution couldn't even withstand? And what kind of toll might that take?

Thankfully, the halls were mostly empty as the next class had begun. Leona hesitated briefly at a branch of corridors, one of which led to the infirmary, but he chose the direction that would take him to the Hall of Mirrors and then chose to mirror to his own dorm where is word was law and no one would dare disturb him—with the minor exception of Ruggie. Vil didn't seem to be in pain, or distress. He was still in Leona's arms but breathing evenly. He seemed...comfortable.

Only after he reached his own room and laid Vil down on the bed did Leona realize that Vil was fast asleep. Again.

Still concerned, he ran his thumb over Vil's lower lip. It was cooler than he thought it should be, but the color seemed to be returning. At his touch, Vil's mouth parted, the tip of a pink tongue tickling the pad of Leona's thumb.

He hesitated, transfixed and imagining the feeling of that tongue sliding against his own if he bent down to wake Vil with a kiss...but it wasn't appropriate. Besides, he needed to see to Malleus.

"I'll be right back," Leona promised, feeling a little guilty for leaving Vil alone without anyone to watch over his condition, but he had to make sure Malleus was all right. He knew first-hand the burden of overblott on the system.

*

Disappointed, Vil opened his eyes to watch Leona disappear from view. He'd fallen asleep in those strong, reliable arms, but woken when he was placed none-too-delicately down on a bed he now surmised belonged to Leona. It had that earthy scent he associated with the therian. 

For a moment, he'd thought Leona might kiss him, and his pulse had begun to race. As much as he wished that kiss had happened, it was probably for the best that it didn't. He needed to maintain a slow and steady heart-rate until his body could neutralize all the poison.

He was well aware that Leona had saved his life. There was no reliable antidote to dragon's breath, and the usual inhibitors didn't work on airborne poisons. The vile in his robe pocket was an original brew he made monthly and carried on him, designed to draw poisonous substances from tissues in the body when ingested, but even if he had taken it before losing consciousness, he probably would have choked to death or swallowed the tainted fluid down into his digestive tract where it would kill him slowly and painfully.

He had begun to treat himself with a mild whiff of dragon's breath from a baby dragon a year ago, and even that had almost decimated his lungs at first. That he was alive now at all was by the grace of the antibodies his body had been trained to create to delay the onset of symptoms. That delay, combined with the remedy, and the first aid Leona had surely conducted, had allowed him to expel the worst of the poison from his system. The rest, his liver and kidneys would handle, as long as his heart-rate remained slow and steady, preventing rapid circulation that would overwhelm his body's defenses.

Taking firm control of his thoughts, he steered them determinedly to pleasant things and away from the events leading up to his current condition. The last thing he needed was to panic at the memory of Malleus' transformation or to fret over what had become of Divus. He focused on images of flowers and furry forest creatures instead, recalling the sound of rain and the scent of a summer breeze.

He lost track of time and must have drifted off to sleep again, because a low groan to his right surprised him from slumber. Cracking open his eyes, he quickly shut them again and willed his heartbeat to settle. That was easier said than done, though, when Leona was pinning Malleus Draconia to the bed beside him and devouring him in an aggressive kiss that made Vil's blood quicken without compromise.

"Vil's right there," gasped Malleus, partially gagged by Leona's tongue.

Leona scoffed. "Now you're worried about Vil? You brought this on, so worry about yourself."

Through cautious slits of vision, Vil observed and tried to analyze what was happening and how he should react. Still with Vil's ribbon in his hair, Leona was gnashing and licking in a kiss so bestial it was almost shameful, causing Malleus to arch submissively toward him, grasping weakly at tanned shoulders. 

Leona had lost his vest again, and Vil vaguely wondered where it was as Malleus' hands gently tugged the white shirt down his arms. The kiss dissolved into a variety of bites and nibbles down Malleus' neck, giving Vil the distinct impression that Leona wasn't planning to stop any time soon.

He concentrated on calming himself, even as his skin grew flushed and his body reacted to the erotic sight. Jealousy helped, combined with a healthy dose of sobering fear still lingering in his impression of Malleus. He wondered what the hell Leona was thinking, ravaging Malleus right beside an ailing, unconscious peer after everything that had just happened.

The obvious answer was that Leona wasn't thinking. His feral instincts were taking over in an aggressive reaction to fear and stress. He was instinctively taking advantage of Malleus' present weakness to assert his own dominance. 

Vil knew he wasn't going to be breaking this up any time soon when those dangerous, half-lidded green eyes met his own, seeing right through his feigned sleep. Leona watched him for a moment, but made no other acknowledgement before continuing to nip and nibble his way down between Malleus' thighs.

Even after closing his eyes, Vil's arousal was heightened by the subdued groans Malleus made as the bed shifted noisily under Vil. Just how much did he need to wriggle, anyway, to get his prick all the way down Leona's throat?

Biting a small patch of his cheek, Vil tried to stop himself from imagining the scene, but that was particularly hard to do when the whole bed quaked and Malleus cried out, his fingers catching in strands of Vil's hair as he grasped at sheets and pillows.

Vil didn't even bother pretending, anymore, his breath catching at the sight of Malleus stretched out on his belly, body contorting in evidence of his ecstasy. He didn't notice Vil's observation.

Leona did. His eyes were glazed with lust and he looked feverish as he thrust heavily into Malleus, sparing no thought for bruising flesh or the claw marks dug into porcelain hips by his sliding grip.

Feeling dizzy, Vil whimpered so softly he could barely hear it himself. He was hard, and the tip of his cock felt wet with precum, rubbing against his underwear as his hips rolled of their own volition. He could still recall the taste and feel of Divus in his mouth, and the sensory recall was so strong it drowned out the tastes left after the incident.

In total disregard for the owner of the ass he was drilling, Leona's hips jerked roughly and he seized up, roaring. The taut ropes of veins bulging as his muscles locked, the swing of his hair and gleam of sweat on bronzed skin... His head thrown back, mouth hanging open, and eyes cheating down toward Vil as his orgasm hit...

Hot and feverish all over, Vil was burning up. His hips jerked as he came without any physical stimulation beyond the slight friction of clothes against his hyper-sensitized skin, and he gasped silently for breath that stopped coming until the world went black all over again.

*

"Vil? Vil!"

Shuddering in the sudden cessation of stimulus, Malleus pushed himself up from the mattress. He wiped a spot of drool from his mouth, panting and shivering in the light breeze as he looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. One moment, he had been full with Leona, drowning in an agony of pleasure, and then...

Frantically, Leona was pummeling Vil Schonheit's chest. Malleus had forgotten they had company...

His head clearing a little as the shroud of unrequited lust faded toward concern, he moved to get a better look. Vil...had been the cause of his jealous rage, and had stood between Malleus and the target of his wrath. He must have been poisoned.

How was he still alive? He would not be for much longer, unless...

"Find some way to cool him. I must find Lilia. He can help."

As he pulled on his clothes, willing away the awkward state of arousal that now made him feel sick with guilt, he tried to get his head straight. He still didn't really remember what had happened, but it was growing clearer as the gravity of imminent danger settled about him like a vice.

He had walked in on the professor of alchemy forcing Vil to pleasure him, and... No... That was how Malleus had interpreted the scene in his shock, but when he focused on the memory, the impression he had built in his head―complete with roughly pulled hair and Vil's tears, and muffled objections―didn't mesh with the flash of memory in which Vil protected the professor with his life, using his body as a shield―or as Malleus had nearly seen it, an appetizer. He made himself reconstruct the room, remembering every minute detail without forcing his impression of what he expected to have seen.

Vil had been on his knees. His hands were bound at his back by magic―loosely, not painfully. 

Professor Crewel... Yes, there was a wicked glint in his eyes, but also...affection? No. Possession... Not that, either. Perhaps something closer to adoration or doting...

His hair wrapped around a gloved fist, Vil was pulled flush to the professor's pubic hair, slowly leaning back with his mouth around the head of the professor's penis. He was moaning... Sensually, not aggrievedly. He was willing. The hold on his hair was tight but not vicious, guiding his head. Professor Crewel was in control, but in hindsight, Malleus was no longer convinced it was forced.

Even now, his insides twisted in jealousy. He hadn't even known what power that brief encounter in the library had had over him. Without even realizing it, he had developed an intense fascination with the pretty model prefect who casually stroked his horns and then retreated blushingly from his embrace. The desire to see Vil again, thwarted at the height of anticipation, had built a dangerous energy in him.

The lethal combination of that energy and fascination together with the instantaneous jealousy and wrath of seeing Vil at what he presumed was the mercy of a teacher whom he trusted had instigated a storm of magic and inside of him, driving him to overblott. He remembered all he had done, now. Divus Crewel must be dead, and Vil...

Dragon's breath was the ultimate natural weapon, released from the lungs in direct proportion to a dragon's fury. The room must have been filled with it.

The glorious light of life―the fight in Vil's eyes―had broken the spell of darkness, slamming the dragon out of Malleus like a physical winding. Overcome with despair and exhaustion, he had lost consciousness before he could warn Vil to cover his mouth and run.

When he woke, his mind was a maelstrom, with two green eyes of safe harbor at its center. He had immediately latched onto miskempt dark hair, acting only on an instinct of high emotion. Widening first in shock, the eyes that belonged to Leona had soon narrowed, and a bossy tongue had forced its way between his lips, channeling the storm.

Panting between bouts of messy kissing and heavy petting, Malleus had gradually become aware that his state of wild abandon was influencing Leona, as if the lion prince was drawing some of the reckless magic out of Malleus and into himself. As he became less maddened and more aware of his surroundings, he recognized that he was likely in Leona's room and that Vil was sleeping soundly right beside him. 

When Leona threw his half-hearted objection to the dogs, he shrugged it off, almost forgetting about Vil as Leona's mouth lit a trail of fires down his skin. He was cognizant enough to stop and think by that point, but he was also sorely lacking in the will to do so. 

If the handsome and rebelliously charismatic Leona Kingscholar wanted to suck him off and didn't care who might be watching, he couldn't quite stir himself to object. 

He should have tried harder. As the malicious magic in him burned up in a firestorm of lust and sensation, Malleus closed his eyes to the flashes of memory that began sporadically tugging at the edges of his mind. He just clung all the harder to the building excitement in the pit of his belly as Leona's length grazed and pounded his insides, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

He was climbing toward an extraordinary climax, spurred on by the molten eruption of Leona cumming inside of him when it all came to an abrupt halt. Even now, as he hurried toward the Beasts and Ghouls class Lilia should be in, he lamented the intense lack of Leona's heat and girth inside of him. He should be thoroughly sobered and cowed by the thought of what he had done to Vil...and to Professor Crewel...but the slick squish of Leona's semen in his raw ass was playing havoc with his sensibilities.

This was no way for a prince to behave. This cowardly dodging of responsibility and whorish, wanton behavior... He wasn't himself. That much was clear.

Right now, he had to find Lilia and have him feed Vil the thorn juice he always kept on hand for this exact emergency. Malleus had always been skeptical of the cautious measure, but now, it was painfully clear that he was a danger to those around him.

*

Sitting in a heap on the floor of his unrecognizable classroom, Divus clutched his head and laughed. His mirth was bitter but plentiful. After all, when one's plots backfired so spectacularly what more could one do than laugh?

Malleus Draconia was supposed to gradually sink into a dark mindscape of paranoia and aggression, eventually losing control in public. He would have been shunned and despised, for such power bloated with darkness could only result in vast destruction.

With a little luck, Divus might have played the hero. With a lot, he might even have rescued Vil and won his young protege's heart for good.

As it was, he had burned through two more of the original 101 lives which supplemented his own. He was burning through them faster than he had anticipated, and if he intended to risk making an enemy of Malleus Draconia―or Leona Kingscholar and that fearsome power to turn anything and everything to sand, for that matter―then he was going to be in trouble, one way or another. 

Practicality set in, and he began drawing an alchemical array that would burn up most of yet another life to return the classroom to normal. It wouldn't do for the incident to draw attention now, not when Malleus Draconia had seen him with Vil and lived to tell of it. Likely, as long as the evidence of his loss of control was taken care of, the fae prince would not put himself in jeopardy by talking. 

Leona, though... The prince of the Savannah was a wild card. How much did he know? How much might Malleus or Vil tell him? Divus was going to have to step up his plans to discredit Leona. Thankfully, the little lion was making that very, very easy. It was too bad he would also drag his king down with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Well that sure escalated fast. I basically just write whatever comes into my head, and apparently my head is a random and terrifying place...but if you enjoyed the chapter, then it's worth braving. ^^


	5. Thorn of the Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With so much aftermath to mop up, this was a difficult chapter to wrangle. But the boys and I eventually came to an accord, and after much cutting and pasting, rolling onto the next chapter, nitpicking, and tweaking, I present to you Thorn of the Valley.

Yawning, Lilia doodled a Tremere juggling little, gangly Gangrel bats. The discerning factors of the vampiric Gangrel clan were not something he needed to learn, nor did he appreciate the subtle mistakes of nuance and the fiction integrated with historical fact that their text book deteriorated into every so often. He had taken this class, expecting it to be easy credit, but he hadn't factored in how bored he would be.

Never look a gift child in the mouth...

"Lilia. I need to speak with you. Now."

Flung open without mercy, the classroom door bounced off the stone wall, causing half the class to jump a second time. All except for Idia Shroud's floating tablet, of course. Idly doodling little embellishments on the edge of the juggler sketch—no doubt to upload some snaps to Magicam—Cater almost jumped right into Lilia's lap.

"Mr. Draconia, we are in the middle of class. This is highly inappropriate—"

"This is an emergency. Lilia is my guardian, as you know. I need to speak with him right now."

It wasn't as much fun as Lilia might have thought to have his interminably boring class interrupted by a no-nonsense Malleus. In fact, Lilia felt a prickling energy in the air that made him uncommonly nervous.

"Ah... Yes... This is highly irregular, however. Can it not wait until—?"

"Professor Trein, as entertaining as it is to hear the perspectives of such...expert...scholars, I think you and I can both agree that I could teach today's lesson on the Gangrel clan if I wanted to, wouldn't you say, Sir?"

"Ah, well... Yes, I suppose that's true enough... Go on. Before Mr. Draconia here terrifies Lucius any further."

The hissing, growling cat was hiding behind the professor, hackles raised and eyes trained on Malleus. Lilia was swiftly excused.

Once they were outside, Lilia quickly broached the issue. "Malleus, what's so—?"

"You have the Thorn of the Valley?"

"Yes, of course. I always—"

"Go to the Savanaclaw dormitory. Leona's room. Vil's there. He needs it, fast."

Lilia went cold. "Malleus, what are you—?"

"Go! Now!"

Never had Malleus raised his voice at Lilia like that, or pulled the weight of his rank and bearing so inadvertently. No matter what Lilia thought he needed to know, or how concerned he was, there was no question of disobeying. He flew for Savanaclaw, clutching the vial that contained the essence of the Thorn of the Valley within his robes and envisioning the events that might have led to its need.

Malleus did not follow. When Lilia turned to check on his young ward, the prince was long gone.

*

As Leona kept desperately trying to feed life into Vil's failing heart and lungs, his panicked thoughts were a mess. What was he thinking, dropping everything to have his way with Malleus like that...? He couldn't understand what had come over him, or why he hadn't even stopped once to check on Vil, even as he watched the man's condition deteriorate... Or just stopped, because Vil was there! Or because Malleus was clearly not in his right mind! 

There was no sugarcoating it. What Leona had done was absurd... And the worst part was that he wanted to celebrate. Malleus Draconia was his fantasy, and he'd just gone to heaven—only to crash down to the depths of hell. If Vil died... Damn it, even if he didn't, Leona was never going to forgive himself for letting this happen.

He had no idea how long he'd been left alone, first using magic to cool the air, though it was not his forte, and then conjuring water to soak a towel in and dab Vil's sweat-beaded brow, occasionally applying CPR. He'd never seen Vil look anything like this. His make-up was running, his skin beaded with sweat, flushed here, and pale there... It was frightening. And then... Then, Vil's heartbeat stopped. It was all Leona could do to try and breath life back into the still, pale prefect. He had no idea how many times he had pumped the chest that was both surprisingly sturdy and now seemed surpassingly frail, possibly breaking bones in the process. He had no idea how many breaths he had forced from his mouth into Vil's. All he knew was that, by the time Lilia Vanrouge mysteriously dropped in from the terrace—looking harried, but not nearly as shaken as he should be—there were tears drying on Leona's cheeks.

"Help him," he whimpered, at a loss as to what exactly Lilia was supposed to be able to do, but desperate enough to put his faith in anything or anyone that might make the difference.

"How long?" Lilia asked, completely oblivious to Leona's semi-naked dishevelment as he moved to Vil's side.

"I don't know," Leona rasped. "I guess... He got poisoned a bit after second period started." It seemed as though Lilia's eyes flared red for a moment. That was when he actually looked at Leona. "Malleus..." Leona shook his head. "It was my fault. I sent him looking. I... He..."

"Over half an hour!?"

Ashamed, Leona couldn't answer. He wasn't pressed to. Lilia was hurriedly un-stoppering a vial and raising Vil up in his arms...but he didn't put the vial to Vil's lips. He raised it to his own.

Confused, Leona watched as the liquid was tossed back and Lilia lowered his face over Vil's throat. It was so a bizarre a scene that Leona couldn't even summon the energy to question or protest. In fact, he felt exhausted...and he hurt.

On top of the deep, lingering ache and abused muscles inflicted on him by his overenthusiastic big brother, his exertions with Malleus and the endless, vigorous bout of CPR had taken a heavy toll. His limbs were heavy and sore, his back and neck throbbing. As the adrenaline of panic wore off and the lethargy of dread settled about him like a heavy blanket, Leona sagged to the floor.

He slowly, coldly began to realize that something was very wrong... With him, maybe, but certainly with Malleus. There was magic involved in the primal rutting that had ensued between them, something dark and twisted, that overcame him by extension. He had been as a slave to it, utterly impassioned, right up until the moment of his release, and then... It was as if he'd been absolved from the spell, but Malleus... He hadn't even... He must still be affected, and so much more potently than Leona. It wasn't safe for Malleus to be... 

Where...was Malleus?

"What the hell are you doing, Vanrouge!?"

Jolted from his stupor by the sight of Lilia kissing Vil with a deep and stirring intensity, Leona tried to leap to his feet, only to find that his body no longer obeyed his commands and land hard on his butt. Lilia ignored him. 

Tears of pain pricked his eyes but Leona gritted his teeth and tried again to stand, more cautiously this time. By the time he was on his feet, Lilia was sitting back, surveying his handiwork.

Vil's lips were red with blood, but he was breathing―shallowly, but soundly. A small, fragile noise made Leona's ears twitch. The vicinity of Vil's eyes creased with tension.

"Relax. Lie still. It's a miracle you're alive. You'll have to tell me how, you spry, young thing..."

Leona growled, his tail swishing with indignation. "Don't get any ideas," he warned.

"Oh, it's too late for that!" Lilia responded, chuckling. "I have many ideas. Here's one for free: Try covering up your shame and I just might take you seriously."

"You little...!"

Lilia turned just enough that the side of one eye was visible to Leona, flashing again that red hue...

"Fix yourself up. You're a disgrace."

The nasty, cutting tone stopped Leona in his tracks and he obediently did exactly as directed. Before he could comment, however, Lilia began to explain, checking Vil's vitals as he talked.

"There is no antidote to the cell-destroying poison of dragon's breath. The Thorn of the Valley, however, is a fae remedy that has regenerative properties that―mixed with the blood of the victim and reintroduced―can gradually reverse some of the effects, if the body fights hard enough. However, he survived this long... Vil's a fighter. He's pulling through, no thanks to you...and Malleus."

"Malleus! Where is he!? Why isn't he with you!?" Leona gasped, latching onto that important question rather than puzzling out how Lilia's words related to his actions.

"There isn't a person in this world who can make Malleus go someplace he doesn't want to be." Lilia murmured, looking uncommonly sad. "Not as he is right now. He'll have isolated himself, I'm sure. Nothing new."

"I...should..." Leona trailed off, awkwardly. 

Who was he to go after Malleus? Not a friend, nor a true lover. There was nothing emotional about what they had done, nothing that bonded them or brought them together. It was just raw, animalistic sex, and a darkness that now left Leona feeling cold and defiled. It had roused something in him, and he almost mourned its lack.

"I didn't even think...about Vil," Leona whispered. "Or anything, really. It was like I was possessed... From the moment I went back for Malleus and he looked into my eyes, I completely lost myself. Is that... Is that normal? For him? For dragons?"

Barely subdued, lingering near to the surface, the anger in Lilia mellowed to a sharp interest. He studied Leona, taking in the extreme fatigue, and more besides. 

"No," he drawled, as if tasting the word on his tongue, feeling it out. "It's not normal by any standard." He turned back to Vil, pressing the back of his hand to the sleeping prefect's cheek. "I can believe that Malleus might choose you for a companion...but I am not so sure I believe he would intentionally do so under these circumstances. My Malleus is a sensitive, romantic child... This isn't like him."

"It's not exactly like me, either," Leona growled, offended by the implication. "You think I'm happy about this?"

"Aren't you? It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"No! Not... Not like this." Burying his face in his hands to hide his pained blush, Leona let out a moan of frustration. "This...is no different from... It doesn't mean anything. Not unless it means something to him."

"There, there."

Leona jumped. He hadn't heard Lilia move, and the thumb curling around his ear, rubbing gently, startled him.

"That's a good kitty," Lilia soothed. It should have been degrading, but his tone and touch were comforting... Relaxing... "You may as well tell me the whole story. It will be a while before I can leave Vil's side, and by the looks of it, you're not going anywhere."

"Will he really be okay?" Leona asked in a small, scared voice, feeling guilty for focusing on his own hurt while Vil was fighting for his life. "He...and Crewel... There's something about them. Anyone else would have died, wouldn't they?"

"Don't you worry about Divus Crewel. As for young Vil here... I would guess that he has achieved some measure of fortification against poisonous substances. Even so, to survive so long with dragon's breath in his system is unheard of. I believe we can have some hope. Now, come. Tell me what you know."

Lilia stood rather abruptly, quite some time after Leona's tale ended, trailing off into a long but strangely comforting silence. "All's well that ends well," said the youthful vice-dorm leader with an air of announcement. "Vil is going to be just fine. It's quite the miracle, really—and I'm dying to know how he pulled it off—but the proof is in the pudding!" Folding his hands in his robes, Lilia cocked his head at Vil, then looked pointedly about the room with its open-air accouterments. "You may as well take him to his own dorm—unless you plan to nurse him here like your own personal doll and lock him away from prying eyes for the rest of time," he cheekily suggested.

It was enough to make Leona doubt the hours of care Lilia had just dedicated to Vil's well-being. "The hell kind of dark fantasy is that!?" he growled, irritated by Lilia's joviality. Now that he'd seen the switch that turned that cheerful manner on and off, Leona wasn't sure he could ever trust Lilia's giddy behavior again. "I'll take him, though..." he agreed. It probably wasn't comfortable for someone as primped and pampered as Vil to be exposed to the elements, to bugs, or even to plain old nature itself. Besides, he didn't want Vil spending too much time in this room, thinking about what he had seen. Sighing, Leona curled forward over his knees. He couldn't carry Vil anywhere just yet. "After...I get some rest, myself."

"Oh, yes. That. I happen to be an old hand at light, curative magic..." Lilia said abruptly, casting a spell in the next breath. "There. That should cure what ails you!"

All of the pain and weariness dissipated like water in the desert, and Leona's head snapped up in shock. "Why didn't you do that hours ago!?"

Smiling sweetly, Lilia walked off toward the door as he said, "Because you would have gone after Malleus―who didn't want you around―while Vil here needed your support. I trust your head is cool enough by now to do the right thing."

The right thing... Taking care of Vil instead of chasing after Malleus. Vil needed him. Malleus... Did Malleus really need anyone? Someone that powerful didn't need anyone or anything, did he? So, why then...? Why give himself to Leona like that? Was it all just some side effect of dark magic? Did it really mean nothing at all?

Just when he least wanted to think of it, the memory of Malleus admiring the violet scent that doused Leona's own and drowned it in capital V I L played over in his mind and he felt his gut clench with envy. Seeing Vil with Crewel had caused Malleus to overblott. Even in the rapture of dark magic that had taken Malleus far more intensely than it had Leona, the dragon prince had still been concerned for Vil. Had that spurred Leona on even harder...? Was he that small and jealous a man...?

"Yeah..." he agreed, flatly. "I'll take Vil to Pomfiore...but Malleus―"

"Malleus is not your problem, Leona. Not unless he personally decides to be. Capiche?"

Looking away to hide the resent in his eyes, Leona nodded, and Lilia left without another word. Leona wasn't to go poking around in Malleus' business. Whatever his role had been, it was over now—unless Malleus came to him and asked, begged, or demanded... Meanwhile, Vil did need Leona's help, so his next move was simple.

He picked Vil up in his arms and carried the surprisingly heavy man to the door. Not that Vil was a burden to lift in the least, but such weight on that small frame attested to the effort he put into sculpting his body. He may be slight, but what Leona now had the presence of mind to note was that he had an admirable share of muscle. He'd gained that over the last two years... In his first year, lifting Vil would have been like carrying a bundle of sticks. Earlier, his desperate state and the adrenaline pumping through Leona had played tricks on the mind, making Vil seem so much smaller than he really was.

As Leona shouldered open his door, Vil's long, snowy lashes fluttered, and he stared expressionlessly up at Leona's face for a moment, before his eyes darted around to take in the moving scenery. Breaking Leona's expectations, he asked no questions and made no comment on all that had passed. He simply reached up to wind his arms about Leona's neck and buried his face under Leona's chin, relaxing as if there were no more comfortable bower in all the world than the clumsy, jostling arms of this lumbering beast.

*

It would have been easier if Lilia was disappointed...or angry... It would have been better. It would have been right.

Malleus was disappointed. And angry. In himself.

He didn't understand how he could have let any of this happen, nor how either Leona or Vil could be so... So...

Corrupt? Yet he himself was the most corrupt of them all. He had no right to judge.

He only...

It didn't matter. His personal feelings didn't matter.

Vil was going to die, and it was his fault. Divus Crewel was surely a stiffening corpse by now. Lilia was going to be disgusted with him. Leona... He didn't know what to think about Leona.

Either way, he had to get away from everyone so that he could not hurt anyone else, because Lilia...had been scared. Lilia, scared... That was something Malleus had never seen before. That look in Lilia's eyes had penetrated right to Malleus' core like a crack winding through concrete, and he bolted in the opposite direction from the Hall of Mirrors, taking the long route to Diasomnia.

At first, he hadn't been thinking, headed only for his own private sanctuary, but it soon dawned upon him that he had killed his professor, and perhaps even a man that he... He could not love Vil. When one loved, they did not do the things Malleus had done.

The clarity of mind now breaking over him was far worse than the dark mire he hadn't even realized he was lost in. Even before he had been pushed to overblott, that mire had been there, rising up like a storm.

When he had encountered Leona, so innocent and oblivious, such a short time ago...he had been charged with a possessive instinct he recognized only now―only now that he had thrown himself down on the lion's tooth without thought of the consequences. Only now...that he had given his body to another for the first time. To Leona Kingscholar... His rival. His savior. His undoing.

Malleus could never look Leona in the eyes again after such sordid behavior... It mattered not that Leona had been just as passionate and willing, for Malleus knew now that his suddenly clearer, sharpened thoughts came courtesy of the storm having broken wildly over the both of them. Leona was just as much a slave to that storm as Malleus had been.

And Vil... Gentle, lovely, sleeping Vil... Its tragic victim.

Feeling the dark despair twist and writhe―still present, still near to the surface―Malleus leaned against the gargoyle that mirrored his posture, seeking emotional support from stone. It worked, some. He calmed himself, as Lilia had taught since he was a mere hatchling.

Calm, cold, calculating clarity. That was what a dragon must revere at all times to quell the fires of temper and tantrum. That was what Malleus strove to embody.

He was failing...but he knew now that he was not at fault. He did not yet understand the motivation, but he had a strong, guiding suspicion as to who had the skill and stealth to poison his heart and mind so. Taking strength from his gargoyle friend, Malleus sniffed, staving off another threat of rain...from his own eyes. Gargoyles did not cry.

Gargoyles did not feel black pits of tar bubbling in their stomachs. Gargoyles did not pity themselves or hate their professors, or imagine how easy it would be to smite such insignificant, mortal mages with a mere breath... Gargoyles were calm, cold, calculating, and possessed of clarity.

But Vil... He had been so pure, so precious... Malleus had admired him in every way; wished to be like him, wished he himself were so innocent and untainted...

No, Vil was not tainted. No matter what that filthy man did to him, he could never be that. 

As much as the thought pained him, Malleus still wanted to believe that Vil had been forced to carry out such an act, yet he knew it could not be so... And while he himself bore the full shame of his actions, and his influence over Leona, Malleus could not deny that Vil's decline had been brought on by a sudden fever that most likely overcame him at watching the two men lost in passion beside him. Had he scorned them, told them to stop? Asked for their help? Malleus did not think so. When he scoured his mind, he only remembered seeing Vil lying beside them in complete stillness, breathing evenly as if in sleep. He remembered sensing that breath rising, and feeling desire rolling toward him as his own pleasure began to crest. As if it were the gargoyle playing out his suppressed memories, he heard a small sound that might have been evidence of Vil climaxing, himself...

The very thought of it agitated Malleus' lingering erection. He palmed himself to try and quell the ache of it, but it wasn't going away. It was like a thorn, lodged in his skin and nagging at him. All day long, his thoughts had been dogged by Crewel's actions, and while he abhorred them, he was also shamefully aroused. With the evidence of his seduction of Leona coating his insides, and thoughts and memories coming back to him in little snatches and snippets, he was going mad with the need to expel the tension that coiled miserably in his loins.

Snarling at his one-time gargoyle companion, Malleus fled the parapet, taking shelter in his dark, drab, lonely room. He stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed, hauling his blanket up over his body to hide his shame, even from himself. For the most part, he just closed his eyes and tried not to think. He was shivering with the contrast of his body heat to the cool air of his sun-starved room. He didn't want to think about Vil's deathly white face, or Crewel's nasty, controlling hold on that fade to lavender... Or Leona's intense, aggressive expression as he came, filling Malleus with his seed.

Still soiled, still compromised, Malleus knew he should wash, should rid himself of the feel of another man's essence within him, of the stench of dried sweat, and of his own, pungent leak of arousal...but he couldn't bring himself to rise from his bed and face the world. 

Worse, the more he tried not to think of the two men who currently vied for his attention—even in their absence—the harder it became, until he was groping himself desperately through his underwear. Turning his face into his pillow, Malleus ground into his clenched fist for a while before he reached beneath the material and gripped the dripping thorn that plagued him, pumping in earnest. The memory of Leona inside of him inflamed him. His cheeks clenched around a phantom shaft, and that foreign substance within him seemed to burn. 

He began to imagine Vil, laying beside them, his eyes open and staring, his lips parted as he thrust into his hand, just as Malleus did now... A sweet, pretty pink tongue might peek out from between purple-petaled lips, wetting them before straight, white teeth bit down on the lower bud, stifling a groan. The sensual Vil of Malleus' imagination watched from an outside perspective, showing him through those eyes what a whorish picture he himself made in cleaving to the man fucking him senseless. And Leona's majesty, powerful as the sun, burning bright while Malleus pulsed with petty darkness... How Leona had filled him, driven him toward glorious ecstasy with every deep thrust... Yet, it was the sound he half-remembered—the small, erotic whimper from beside him—that sent him over the edge, cumming hard into his hand, soiling his underwear, and gasping, choking on his silenced voice.

As his skin tingled, and a fresh sheen of sweat cooled, Malleus focused on calming his breath, and trying not to lose his head at the realization that he did indeed have feelings for Vil. He barricaded his heart against them as hard as he could, building up those briar wards and thinking of everyone and anyone else. Crewel, Leona...Silver, Sebek... Anyone. Anyone but the man he had probably killed when he completely and utterly lost control. He was the thorn. He was the dark, nagging, ill prick of degeneracy spreading an evil poison among those he cared for. He should never have left the safety of his secluded little valley...

He jumped and almost retched when gentle, familiar hands whispered across his skin and brushed the hair from his cheek, stroking his brow and between his horns. He didn't open his eyes or turn to face Lilia. He couldn't bear to.

"Rest, my dear boy. You've had a long day... Just know that Vil is recovering exceptionally well. In time, this will all be water under the bridge."

"Recovering?" Malleus asked, his eyes popping open to stare in shock at the far wall.

"That boy has an incredible constitution, I'll say that much," Lilia scoffed, as though he could hardly believe it himself. "He'll be all right, so don't you fret about a thing. The Thorn of the Valley works wonders, truly."

Of course... The Thorn of the Valley was no twisting, evil barb to poison the blood... It was a magical, healing herb. What was the matter with Malleus' mind that he could see only vile, hellish impurity in such an innocuous work of nature?

"There's something wrong with me," Malleus whispered, his voice small and infantile. "I can't stay calm. I can't find my clarity."

"Yes... There's something wrong... But not with you, dear boy. You're perfect, just the way you are."

"Professor Crewel—"

"Don't mention that man to me right now. I'm too furious. I'll deal with him when he's no longer needed."

"He's...alive?" Malleus asked. No answer was forthcoming, only the gentle brush of fingers on his cheek. "Lilia...?"

"Shhh. Go to sleep, Malleus. Nobody has died, not even that vile creature... Silver will draw a bath for you in the morning, and there ought to be some thorn juice in your tea as well, methinks."

A lingering kiss to Malleus' temple was like a spell of warmth, trickling over his skull and seeping into his mind, lulling him off to sleep at last.

*

Leona was warm, strong, steady, and reassuring. It wasn't in Vil's nature to show weakness, but then again, he had never been so weak as he was after almost dying twice in one day. Surrounding himself in Leona's scent and allowing himself to be carried like a frail princess were indulgences he felt entitled to.

Luckily, the final class of the day was still in session, though it would be ending soon. There was hardly anyone in the hallways of the school, let alone in the Pomfiore dorm. Rook would eventually be knocking at Vil's door, and then entering without so much as a word before too long, but he should have club activities after class, so he wouldn't be able to fly to Vil's side and demand to know why an entire day of classes had been missed. In fact, as Vil's second in command, it would fall to Rook to preside over dinner, so that would buy some more time before the interrogation.

When they reached Vil's room, he was reluctant to let go, but Leona was as curt and impatient as ever... Almost, anyway.

"You should rest. I'll stay for a while, if you want...so go on and get into bed."

"Actually..." Vil's blush wasn't for what he wanted to say, but for the reason behind it. "I'd like to take a bath." He was still embarrassingly soiled from his near-fatal orgasm at the sight of Leona banging Malleus like a stuffed Yule dinner. "I'll sleep better if I'm clean."

"Oh..."

Leona was charmingly awkward, even after all they'd been through over the long course of the day.

"If you wouldn't mind...I'd prefer to have you sit by me," Vil clarified. "Just to be safe. I'm still...very tired."

The truth was, a seed of terror had sprouted roots in Vil's heart when he began to suffocate for the second time. He couldn't stand to be alone in the bath, and right now, he especially needed Leona's stalwart, heroic presence.

It didn't matter that jealousy was quietly twisting in his gut. It didn't matter that he could see now that Leona was captivated by Malleus. All that mattered was that Leona had saved him twice, and stayed by his side through the worst of it. He trusted Leona, and that meant everything.

"Fine. You take a seat for a bit and I'll...run the bath, or something."

"Like you know the first thing about drawing a bath," Vil drawled, rolling his eyes. "I can do it myself...as long as you watch over me."

As he ran the water, introducing bubbles and scented oils at just the right intervals, Vil felt oddly self-conscious of Leona sitting on the tiled floor, tapping his claw-like nails. Vil didn't feel much like himself at all. He was exhausted, and even minor efforts made his limbs ache with tiredness, but he knew the bath would revitalize him somewhat. At least enough to take the stress from his limbs so he could sleep.

Sleep, sleep, sleep... That was all he seemed to want to do lately... But somehow, he felt like he could sleep incredibly well if Leona was near. The memory of his greenhouse nap brought a secretive smile to his lips, and as he turned off the tap, Vil realized he hadn't yet voiced his gratitude. He never did get to have that moment alone with Leona to thank him.

As he began unbuttoning his vest, Vil expressed his thanks, grateful that Leona couldn't see the faint blush he was sure stained his cheeks, as long as his back was turned.

"Whatever. It's just a bath. Just don't blame me if I fall asleep."

"Not that..." Vil glanced back briefly, to check that Leona was watching as he shrugged off his vest. "Yesterday..." He cleared his throat, willing the blush into non-existence. "You could have taken advantage of me in any number of ways, but instead, you let me sleep, and then offered up your own vest as a pillow. It was a sweet thing to do."

As Vil's shirt slid off his shoulders, he glanced back again, to see Leona's eyes wander briefly, then flick away, studying the tiles instead. He said nothing.

Vil was glad not to have Leona's eyes on him as he removed his pants. Normally, he would relish the show, giving a flirty little wiggle, but he was painfully aware of the mess he'd made of himself and his uniform. Tossing the offending garments aside with a laziness he usually despised in others, he scooped up a little water and surreptitiously rinsed his groin so as not to dirty the bath beyond his tolerance from the get-go.

If he'd thought Leona wasn't watching him, just because he wasn't directly in the lion's sights, he was mistaken.

"Why didn't you say something?" Leona asked, quietly. "Why didn't you stop us?"

Lifting his leg to climb into the bath, Vil lost his balance. It wasn't just Leona's question, or the surprise tug in his gut at hearing that deep, gravelly voice out of the blue... He was also weak and off kilter, and had obviously overestimated his current capacity.

Leona was there in a heartbeat, holding and supporting him, and Vil unconsciously relaxed into that embrace. On any other day, he might have shrugged Leona off as a nuisance out of pride, but today, he was pathetically grateful.

As Leona helped him into the bath, the hot water turned Vil's muscles to jelly. He sank into the revitalizing heat, breathing in the scents of jasmine and lavender, and letting them carry him away for a short while. When he eventually blinked open his eyes, Leona was there, kneeling at the edge of the bath, his chin pillowed on his arms atop the rim, a long, sharp tooth poking past his lip.

Vil's foot jerked in reaction and he made a splash, turning his body away beneath the bubbles and setting his sights on the gleaming skylight. He could feel Leona's lazy gaze on him, and it renewed his confidence in himself. He knew he was beautiful. Even when he didn't feel beautiful... Even when he felt tired and dirty, and jealous and petty... Even when he felt unworthy... He was beautiful.

"I didn't want to," he whispered.

"Huh?"

"I didn't stop you...because I didn't want to." 

"The hell's that mean?" Leona growled.

Did he have to spell it out? "I knew I needed to keep my heart rate settled, but I couldn't help myself... The way you were with Malleus, I've...never seen anything like it." The water rippled as Vil shivered in remembrance of Leona's eyes on him. He wasn't sure Leona even remembered that.

"That wasn't..."

"I know." Leona sounded more embarrassed than Vil had ever heard and it made him feel guilty for being so indelicate. "You weren't really in control of yourself, were you? But..." Always one to challenge and push rather than to run away and cower in fear, Vil's eyes shifted to Leona's face, watching his expression. "I think you could have stopped if you wanted to... Just like I could have stopped myself from..."

Leona couldn't meet his eyes. "If I could have stopped...I would have."

"Liar. You obviously have feelings for Malleus."

That got his attention. Lifting his chin, Leona growled low in his throat, then cut the sound off abruptly, asserting control. It was fascinating to observe the fusion of feline and human behaviors.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yeah... I do. And that's why I should have stopped myself from taking advantage of him like that." The anger faded fast and uncertainty wavered in Leona's eyes. "That, and... It wasn't right, what we did... Not while you were lying there, suffering. I should have realized..." He swore, turning his frustration upon the tiled floor rather than hammering Vil with it. "There wasn't even anything to realize. I knew you were poisoned. I should have taken care of you the second I got back. I shouldn't have let myself get carried away like that, and—"

"You couldn't have known," Vil murmured, reaching up to touch Leona's cheek with his wet fingers, hoping his touch brought some comfort. "I told you I would be fine. I didn't know, myself, how bad it would be." He sighed, letting his tired arm slide back into the water, and faced the truth of his folly. "I underestimated the potency of... I guess, I underestimated Malleus. He's too strong. His poison is too powerful. No amount of immunization could prevent it from overcoming my defenses. Just like..." Coyly, Vil glanced back at Leona's face again. "...you didn't stand a chance against whatever spell he had you under."

"It wasn't like that," Leona countered, gruffly. He cleared his throat, speaking up louder when he was done stalling. "He just...woke up like that. Something was wrong, and I knew it, but the moment I looked at him... Nobody was controlling me. That was all me. I just didn't care about anything or anyone but what I wanted in that moment."

"And here I thought that was normal for you," Vil ribbed.

"Fuck you."

"I wouldn't mind that."

He knew he was poking and prodding where he should leave well enough alone. He could hear the strain in Leona's voice, the tension of a man who was close to crumbling, at the edge of his limits... Just the fact that Leona was talking so openly and sharing so much was a big, glaring red flag. Vil just...wanted so badly to know if he stood any chance at all, especially after what he'd witnessed earlier. Jealousy, pride, pure need... Something was driving him to push those buttons. If he didn't take advantage of Leona's wagging tongue now, he might never have an opportunity like this again.

Leona wasn't rising to the bait, though. He was staring down at the bubbles, as if completely unaware that there was anything under them, let alone Vil's naked body. He reached idly toward the water, swishing it about with the tips of his fingers, his gaze far, far away.

"Leona..." Vil waited for the lion to return to him, to be present in the room and the moment, and meet his eyes. "You really have no idea how I feel about you, do you?"

"Don't go getting all sappy just because I found you. I'm no hero. I failed you way more than I saved you. Hell, it was Lilia who basically gave you the kiss of life, the little sneak."

"Do you really think I'm the type to fall prey to a hero complex?" Vil grunted, sliding deeper into the water, away from Leona's idle fingers, lest he give in to the urge to brush up against them. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm not myself today, either. I'm too damn tired to put up a front, so lucky you, you get to see this pathetic, vulnerable creature uncensored..."

"You're not pathetic."

"But I am vulnerable, so you're going to shut up and let me say what I'm trying to say and take it like a man."

The silence stretched out.

"Well? Are you going to say it, or am I supposed to read your mind?"

Vil heaved out a sigh of frustration. He usually didn't mind playing these sorts of games, even with someone as dense as Leona. It could be fun to drop gradually more obvious hints until the light of realization finally dawned, but today, he wasn't in the mood. Today, he just wanted Leona to understand.

"What happened today has nothing to do with it, except to override my better sense and influence my bad decisions. What I mean to say is... I've wanted you for a long time... Longer than you even knew I existed."

Leona frowned. "How would you know?"

"What? Of course I know how I fee—"

"How would you know how long I've been aware of you?"

That was a stupid question. He knew when they'd been introduced. "When we met as dorm leaders, I—"

"I remember a first-year student on his very first day, swallowed up by robes that were too big for his skinny little body and somehow making that the most fashionable look of the year. I remember noticing how hard you must have been working to put on muscle and fill out to become stronger and fitter, and how well it suited you." 

Vil held his breath as Leona talked, shocked by the admission. Had he really stood out that much? Leona had always been so aloof. He'd felt like an awkward kid, admiring the cool, handsome third-year rebel.

"I... I started modelling long before I came to Nightraven... I felt fat and ugly, no matter how I starved myself, or how thin my waist was." It almost brought tears to his eyes to remember what his early years as a teenaged fashion model had been like, and the complexes that had cornered and controlled him, but sitting before him was the very person who had saved him, just by being. "It wasn't until I saw you playing magic shift, and how strong and beautiful your body is...that I started to feel comfortable in my own skin." Apparently, it wasn't just Leona whose tongue was wagging with unaccustomed freedom. "I wanted to get stronger, and look fitter, like..."

Leona was grinning the most attractive, asymmetrical grin Vil could imagine, showing one set of fang-like teeth and giving off a predatory air that made Vil feel oddly flattered.

"I remember being impressed by how you took down that narcissist of a dorm leader... Can't even remember his name, but he was a total prick. I remember thinking about what he was probably doing to you and feeling kinda proud when you stepped up, even though you sometimes make me want to stab something... And I remember hating Crewel for setting his eyes on you, and yet not being able to blame him, because who wasn't looking? Not that I was into your skinny little ass..."

Vil's blood ran cold. "You knew...?"

The moment they were having melted like the dwindling soap-suds, now only just covering the water's surface. Leona's grin melted, too, and he looked solemn. It made Vil's heart sink. "I guessed... But I didn't really know if he'd actually made a move until yesterday." The bitter expression Leona wore was as depressing as a hangnail. "So you could say I'm a little shocked to hear you say you want me, when I'm pretty sure now you've been messing around with Crewel for years," the lion finished.

"You don't get to judge me," Vil said flatly, staring at the sad film of bubbles through which his form was beginning to show.

"I'm not. I just...don't get it," Leona groaned. "He's gorgeous, sure, but he's also a smarmy, slimy, controlling son of a bitch."

Vil nodded, unable to argue with that assessment, but his nod was passive-aggressive, because he was holding back a defensive reprimand. Instead of unleashing it, he nodded a few more times, and then began to pose a counter-argument. "He doesn't let anyone control who he is, or who he can be. Not even fate can put him in his place... When I was trapped in Narise's mind games and a slave to his whims, Divus didn't save me... He taught me to save myself. I owe all I am to him."

"Dogshit," Leona snapped. "You don't owe him anything, just like you don't owe me anything for having a strong, sexy body that inspired you to get fit." And people called Vil a narcissist! "You did that, not me... And Crewel doesn't get to take credit for the powerful, confident man you are today. You don't have to—"

"No, I don't have to." Vil raised his chin, glaring as if to burn a hole through Leona. He wasn't going to sit there and be lectured by anyone, especially not the lackadaisical, discipline-impaired, 20-year-old third year dorm leader who couldn't catch a clue when it was dangled in front of his stupid nose. "I want to. You're right. It's messed up that I'm fucking a professor. It's even more messed up that I'm completely obsessed with him even though I...want...someone else... But that's me. I'm a mess. And now you know."

At least Leona had the grace to look chagrined, but he wasn't quite done arguing. As if strangling his temper, he glared right past the bath, boring holes into the floor with his eyes. "So, what you're saying is... You choose him."

"No." Vil retorted, before he even processed Leona's words. He was just being contrary at that point. Getting a grip on his pride, he adjusted his answer. "Yes. I suppose so. But it doesn't have to be a choice... Not if you don't make it a choice."

"You're insane."

Going by Leona's indignant expression, it was difficult to tell whether the man had taken his meaning and was offended by the suggestion, or whether he was just plain offended by Vil's philosophy.

"Have you never felt anything for me? Not once?" Vil asked, exasperated. A moment later, when confusion rippled across Leona's face, he regretted the outburst. Kicking himself, Vil drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, curling into himself defensively. "Of course not," he muttered, sick to death of his own stupidity. "You're in love with Malleus... Fine. New question." He determinedly stared at his knees, not sure why he was doing this to himself. "Have you never wanted or desired someone else, even knowing how you feel about Malleus?"

Leona was quiet for a moment. "Malleus...doesn't love me."

"That wasn't my question," Vil ground out, annoyed at being ignored while he was putting himself on the line.

"I think...he might have feelings for you."

"Just answer the... What?"

His gut clenching, Vil looked up at Leona in wonder, not sure if he was flattered or horrified by the mere possibility.

"Nothing. Forget it. It's not my place. Yes, okay? Yes. I've wanted other people. I've... I've been with... I have someone, someone who's not Malleus. Someone I don't... Someone I hate more than I love, who makes me crave him without lifting a fucking finger." The more he spoke, the more Leona's composure unraveled, until he was almost unrecognizable as the cool, careless, delinquent prince of the Afterglow Savannah. "Fuck! I know I can't say shit about you and Crewel. I'm a total hypocrite. I just...don't like it. I guess, it reminds me too much of how I am with... With this guy."

Curiosity burned like a white-hot brand at the roof of Vil's larynx. He fought with his instinct to ply Leona with questions. He already knew he wasn't going to get any answers.

"You won't tell me who."

"No."

"Even though you know I'm screwing a professor. It can't be worse than that."

"It can and it is, so no. Don't ask me again."

The brand turned to stone and sank, scalding like hot coals, all the way to the pit of Vil's stomach. He redirected that curiosity, hoping to appease it even a little.

"Then tell me about Malleus."

"Why, so you can go drag him into some kind of poly-amorous love triangle instead?"

"Well, if you won't bite, I'll have to cast a wider net, won't I?"

"Seriously, fuck you, Vil."

That hurt. Vil sank a little deeper into the water, the tug-of-war finally getting the better of him. "You really have no sense of humor," he muttered, his voice cracking with the exhaustion that was now flooding his every nerve.

"It would help if I believed you were joking," Leona told him, though his eyes were watching with concern as Vil's earlobes dipped under the water.

Vil shook his head, not liking the way the water sloshed up to his lips, but too tired to drag himself back up above the water line. "I shouldn't have brought this up... Not today. Not like this. I'm not thinking straight."

"The water's cold."

Just as Vil's mouth and nose ducked under the water, Leona reached in and pulled him up, making a feeble excuse for the sake of Vil's pride.

"Help me out?" Vil sighed.

If Leona wasn't in the least interested in Vil, he sure had a funny way of showing it, because the way he caught Vil up in a towel and held him there in a comforting embrace was not how one treated a friend, let alone an acquaintance who just happened to be a fellow dorm leader. The admission that Leona had noticed him as a first-year and paid attention to his growth whispered in the back of Vil's mind, and if he closed his eyes for a moment and leaned into Leona's hold, he could easily imagine that there was something between them.

When he remembered Leona snapping at him over Malleus and Divus, and rambling about his mystery lover, Vil inevitably came back around to the obvious conclusion that there was nothing there at all, and choked up, wanting nothing more than to cry. Leona had made it clear that he was disgusted by Vil's loose morals and relationship with Divus. Besides, if he truly believed Malleus felt something for Vil, he probably felt more hatred than like to begin with. As much as Vil wanted it, it wasn't meant to be. Even if he could quit Divus... Even if he could devote himself entirely to Leona... Leona wasn't likely to have him. He'd blown it. Worse... There was never anything he could have done right as long as Leona loved Malleus.

It was time to put the fantasy to bed. Pushing Leona away, Vil drew on the strength he knew was inside of him. No more leaning on Leona. No more indulging himself. He didn't need anybody to take care of him. He'd come this far under his own power. He'd survived because he was smart, and he was strong. Maybe Leona had helped a little...and Lilia, too...but it was Vil's potion, his dedication to mithridatism and physical fortitude that had gotten him through.

He almost made it to the bathroom door before the towel slipped from his trembling fingers and he tripped, barely keeping himself from crashing to the tiles. For the first time since he could remember, he cried as Leona caught him, hating how ashamed he felt, and how weak he was, even when he decided to be strong. Clinging to Leona, he took a deep, shuddering breath, smothering his tears.

"Take me to bed," he begged, not sure himself whether he meant the innuendo in the words or not. He was sure Leona wouldn't rise to it, anyway.

What Leona did do was lift Vil into his arms again, and wordlessly carry him into his bedroom, snagging a silk robe from the closet on his way past. He set Vil onto his feet in front of the bed and wrapped him in the robe, then lifted Vil right into the center of the bed, pulling the covers up over him with the utmost, gentle care.

When Vil shamelessly reached for him, drawing his face closer and leaning up to kiss him, he didn't object or pull away. He let Vil kiss him, and his lips pressed back lightly, but then he wordlessly turned away, making for the door.

"Where are you going?" Vil asked, fighting to keep his voice steady, though it shook with exhaustion and a foreign anxiety he loathed.

"I...should check on..." Leona trailed off, but his intention was clear.

"Stay," Vil ordered. A moment later, he back-peddled and made it into a request, because he couldn't possibly prevail in a battle of wills right now, and he wasn't willing to face the consequences of losing. "Please... Please stay." Leona didn't move, and Vil was too tired to fight, so he let the tension out of his body and gave in to sheer vulnerability one last time. "I can't lose you to Malleus twice in one day."

Leona whirled, his eyes widening. "Lose...me?"

"You really are a self-absorbed little kitty, aren't you...?" Vil asked, spitefully, driven by the flat, tired sense of emotional fatigue that came part in parcel with his current, bone-weary enervation. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"But...you're with Crewel," Leona pointed out, as if he hadn't absorbed a word Vil had spoken in the bath.

"Not every relationship is of the heart, Leona," Vil said, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. His eyes were too tired to open, so he just lay there and spoke, his voice devoid of inflection. "Apparently you know that as well as I do, so you can appreciate what I'm saying, can't you?"

"Vil..." At last, he got it. At last, he heard it. "Even if he doesn't see me that way...I'm... I like―"

"Malleus," Vil breathed, wishing he had the virility to breathe magic into the curse of that name. "I know."

"I'm sorry," Leona whispered, standing over Vil once more. Like a complete dolt, he utterly undermined his apology by brushing stray falls of hair from Vil's face with a touch so gentle it tingled.

"Don't be," Vil told him, his eyes fluttering open with the aid of the energy transferred by that touch. "What did I just say about relationships and hearts?"

Leona gazed down, his face unreadable, framed by wild hair. His ears were standing at attention...but Vil didn't know what that might mean. "You're not...going to break it off, are you? This thing with Crewel..."

"If I did, would it change anything?" Vil asked, mortified by the desperation he heard in himself. "Would you love Malleus any less, or me any more?" He just couldn't stop. He just couldn't let it go.

"I...don't have any right to judge you..." Leona responded, his eyes following the pattern of Vil's blanket down toward his toes in avoidance. "But I don't like him."

Obviously, he wasn't talking about Malleus, so that left Divus.

"Then convince me," Vil pleaded, reaching up to try and pull Leona's attention back to him. As long as Leona was looking at him, as long as he was still beautiful, there had to be hope. "Give me a reason to give him up."

Give up a man who made Vil's toes curl in pleasure just by smiling? Give up a man who had taken a dragon's claws to the spine to protect him? For Leona...? He could consider it.

Leona did look at him...for a long, quiet time. When he finally spoke, Vil could barely keep his eyes open any longer.

"I can't... I've already made my best case," Leona whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But I've never been one to play by the rules, either."

There it was. The one window... The golden opportunity... Leona had opened his hand and dropped the key right between Vil's parted lips.

"Kiss me..."

"Again?" Leona teased, his voice trembling a little, belying the stalling tactic. "How many times have I kissed you back to life today, huh? Not to mention that freebie from Lilia..."

Vil vaguely remembered Leona mentioning something about that earlier, too... It must really have gotten under his skin.

"Lilia kissed me?" Vil asked, not having to work hard to strip his voice and leave Leona wondering what that meant to him.

A rumble of a growl sounded in Leona's chest, and Vil felt a tiny thrill of excitement somewhere in his own sternum. 

"The little shit... He fed you some faerie grass or some shit like a freaking kinky mamma bird. It wasn't sexy at all, so don't get excited." Leona leaned a little closer. He hesitated... Then, he licked his lips. "One more kiss...and then you rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Vil rasped, meaning it, because he wasn't going to let Leona leave his side until he had what he wanted.

All of those tales of a prince's kiss dragging maidens back from death's door and breaking centuries of sleep's embrace flitted through Vil's mind as Leona bent to kiss him, not withholding an ounce of his untamed sexual energy. He delved between Vil's lips, parting them deftly and capturing Vil's tongue with his own, drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently. He fingers brushed Vil's cheek, sliding through his hair to lightly support his neck as the kiss deepened. He was so kind, and so delicious, that Vil was grasping at his collar, yearning for more, stretching his tongue to breaking and trying to pull Leona's back between his own, reaching lips, to bring the man down on top of him so there was nothing between them but flattened layers of material.

A whine escaped him as Leona pulled away, and he had nothing left to hold on with, his hands trembling atop the patterned quilt. He searched desperately, for some sign that he hadn't failed yet again, and Leona sighed, patting his hands.

"You really will be dead if you don't take it easy," he said.

"Rest with me, then," Vil suggested, immediately. He'd meant to infuse the words with an air of seduction, but they came out barely a whisper, and he lamented his frailty.

Leona studied Vil's face for a moment, and then his hands, before glancing down to the foot of the bed. "I'll...take the lounge," he said, moving away and sidestepping the weights Vil had used that morning. "You haven't even asked about your... About Crewel," he floated, making conversation as he got comfortable on the chaise lounge that lay at the foot of Vil's bed. "Aren't you worried?"

If he was, that would have been a cruel thing to ask...but no. Vil wasn't worried. He'd seen Divus recover from worse... More interesting was the way Leona tried to disguise the question as passing conversation...but Leona didn't make conversation. The answer was important to him.

"Divus is a big boy," Vil sighed, letting the mattress consume him. "He doesn't need anybody's concern."

"If you say so," Leona muttered. A moment later, he yawned loudly, shifting around and curling up at the end of the lounge that allowed him to keep half an eye on Vil, which he did.

While Vil would have preferred to have Leona sleep at his side within reach, there was something to be said for the sense of safety and protection gained from having a watchful lion at your feet. Either way, Vil was fast asleep before he had a chance either to regret Leona's gentlemanly behavior, or to savor the calming sound of his even breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake/Extra: Gargoyles Don't Cry
> 
> (The unofficial theme song to this chapter, set to Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry".)
> 
> The smell of your skin lingers on me now
> 
> You're probably on your flight back to your home town
> 
> I need some shelter of my own protection, baby
> 
> To be with myself and center
> 
> Clarity, peace, serenity
> 
> I hope you know, I hope you know
> 
> That this has nothing to do with you
> 
> It's personal, myself and I
> 
> We've got some straightenin' out to do
> 
> And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
> 
> But I've got to get a move on with my life
> 
> It's time to be a gargoyle now
> 
> And gargoyles don't cry
> 
> Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry
> 
> The path that I'm walkin', I must go alone
> 
> I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown
> 
> Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
> 
> And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay
> 
> I hope you know, I hope you know
> 
> That this has nothing to with you
> 
> It's personal, myself and I
> 
> We've got some straightenin' out to do
> 
> And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
> 
> But I've got to get a move on with my life
> 
> It's time to be a gargoyle now
> 
> And gargoyles don't cry
> 
> Like the little school mate on the school tower
> 
> We'll play jacks and solitaire
> 
> I'll be your best friend and you'll be mine
> 
> Valentine
> 
> Yes, you can hold my hand if you want to
> 
> 'Cause I want to hold yours too
> 
> We'll be playmates and lovers
> 
> And share our secret worlds
> 
> But it's time for me to go home
> 
> It's getting late, dark outside
> 
> I need to be with myself, and center
> 
> Clarity, peace, serenity
> 
> I hope you know, I hope you know
> 
> That this has nothing to do with you
> 
> It's personal, myself and I
> 
> We've got some straightenin' out to do
> 
> And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
> 
> But I've got to get a move on with my life
> 
> It's time to be a gargoyle now
> 
> An gargoyles don't cry
> 
> Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry


	6. Apitherapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Apitherapy is a branch of alternative medicine that uses honey bee products, including honey, pollen, propolis, royal jelly and bee venom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 10/1! In honor of 101 day, I (completely accidentally) wrapped up a whole new chapter for you with a good bit of Divus to make up for the lack last chapter.

It was the faintest whisper that drew Leona's attention. He cracked an eye, first peering at Vil's sleeping form and then catching a slight strip of light where the door peeked open.

"Beaute..." Rook repeated, an instant before the door clicked shut. 

Leona remembered falling asleep with the lights on, but Vil had drifted off to sleep almost immediately, and he was now breathing so heavily that he couldn't possibly have woken and doused them himself. Rook must have done so. 

Yawning, Leona rubbed his bleary eyes and lay his head back down, rolling onto his back and wriggling to scratch an itch the lazy way. He froze when all of the memories came rushing back like some kind of nightmare he was better off forgetting in its entirety. What had become of his peaceful life of naps and magic shift? His simple, uncomplicated days of gaming the system at Nightraven were clearly over. In the span of two days, he had unearthed a forbidden, clandestine relationship; been so lonely he intentionally took himself off to the Savannah, knowing he was gonna get his ass destroyed if he showed up out of the blue after months of avoiding Farena; caused a near international incident that nearly got two people killed; fucked his unattainable crush under the most questionable circumstances he could possibly imagine; and made out with his rival for that crush. Hell, he hadn't just made out with Vil, he had been handed Vil's heart on a fucking platter...and crushed it with his feelings for Malleus.

Chasing such thoughts around his head was like trying to chase his own tail. At some point, he just had to accept that catching it was only going to hurt him.

On one hand, Leona was still worried about Malleus, but on the other...he'd kissed Vil. He'd really kissed Vil. Deeply. Intensely. Of his own volition and with no dark magic to blame. It wouldn't be right to pretend that never happened, or to sneak off in the night to go check up on someone else... Maybe he could sneak off to the bathroom, though.

When he crept back into the room, Vil was so deeply asleep, he didn't even twitch. Leona stalked closer, placing his feet with caution so as not to make a sound. He leaned against the bedpost, gazing down at the beautiful man who trusted him so well, he slept soundly, even with a predator standing over him.

It was so strange to Leona that he hadn't seen Vil's allure before now. He'd noticed Vil, sure... He'd taken note, in fact... But he hadn't considered Vil his type by any means. He'd thought himself beyond such surface attraction.

Of course... It wasn't Vil's beauty that attracted him now, though he surely admired it. It was the flawed, tired man who had flopped down on the ground and taken a nap on his chest like some overworked peasant. It was that Vil... That raw, honest, imperfect Vil... The same Vil he had spent the day nursing and then arguing with. That was the Vil who Leona was attracted to.

How he wanted to put that theory to the test... To wake Vil up and ravish him right then and there, just to see what deliciously flawed sounds or faces he might produce. Instead, he turned and walked the length of the bed, re-situating himself on the lounge where he sought the blissful oblivion of sleep once more.

Having become ensconced in a shifting dreamscape of broom chases and carefree magic shift that had him doing loops in the air—and rolling his wrists in his sleep—Leona's next awakening was not nearly so peaceful. The door crashed open, delivering one loudly barking professor to rouse both Leona and Vil from slumber. Growling, Leona crouched low on the lounge, his instincts urging him to pounce, and rend, and tear.

"Mind your manners, pussy cat. You wretched felines have no respect for the alpha in the room," Crewel disdained, taking a wide berth of Leona's makeshift bed.

"What do you think you're doing in a student's room, anyway?" Leona growled, remembering he could speak as his animal instincts faded away, together with the lull of sleep.

"When a prized student doesn't show up to class for a full day, a teacher can't help but worry, you know," Crewel uttered, removing his glove and stretching out to brush the back of his hand over Vil's forehead. His concern was...convincing. At least, until he snarled at Leona. "Unlike a naughty little chit like you, who—"

"Cut the crap," Leona snapped, getting to his feet and taking a wary stance. "I'm the one who found you lot, lying broken on the fucking floor. Nice trick, by the way," he added, his eyes narrowing as he took note of Crewel's flawless demeanor.

The professor's aplomb was in shambles this morning, apparently, because he took a menacing step forward, brandishing his little stick, and grinned noxiously at Leona. "Shut your mouth, you nasty little boy, or I'll strap you down and punish you raw until all your little classmates have graduated and gone on to lead productive lives out in the real world you keep hiding from."

"Divus, that's uncalled for! Leona saved my life yesterday. Maybe even yours!" Vil reprimanded, sounding much improved after a good night's rest and looking every bit the indignant queen.

"Is that so...?" A huff of breath poured out of the professor's nostrils and he straightened his already straight back, drawing up to his full height—and still coming up satisfyingly short against Leona. "Well then, the meddling kitten had better run along so I can hear the uncut tale from you in full, hadn't he?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Leona asserted, chucking his chin. "Tell him, Vil. I'm staying right here until you're back on your feet."

*

Vil hadn't sensed such danger in a room since... Well, since he'd met the wrath of a fae dragon. Leona's ears were flattened to his skull, and somehow Vil sensed what that meant. Meanwhile, Divus was acting wildly out of character, throwing his weight around with blatant, possessive notions that even someone completely oblivious to their relationship would have been a fool not to notice. Leona didn't know what he was facing... Vil wasn't even sure he knew. The smart move was to get Leona out of the room as fast as possible.

"Leona... I'm going to stay here and rest today, but thanks to you, I'm out of the woods," Vil soothed, nervously glancing at Divus. "There's no need for you to miss any more class on my account."

The professor relaxed just slightly, tapping his cane on his shoulder with a jaunty little bounce. He surveyed Leona up and down and then appeared to dismiss the threat.

"Indeed. Luckily for Vil here and Mr. Vanrouge, it was my potions class they skipped in the afternoon without consent, but you had best run along and start begging for favors little pussy cat, or you'll be expelled before you can even breathe the words 'repeat third year' again."

"Divus, please," Vil begged, not daring to look at Leona.

"Please, what?" Divus hissed, turning a glare on him. That glare softened almost immediately, however, when he saw the open desperation on Vil's face. "Oh, very well. Run along, Kingscholar. I'll see to it that your absences yesterday are disregarded, in light of your...heroic service."

"That is the least you should do to thank me for keeping your little pet alive to screw another day," Leona spat, stalking off and slipping out the door without so much as a glance at Vil before the blindsided professor could respond to that admission of secret knowledge. Vil winced, knowing he was about to be dressed down for it, and already smarting from Leona's snarky little exit line.

"Please let that go," he whispered. "Just for a little while. Just until I can take it."

The unsavory expression on Divus' face and the long, drawn-out silence gave Vil reason to believe his plea would go unanswered, but then the professor huffed, turning his eyes away for a second, and schooled his expression. When he looked back at Vil, he was critical, but not quite cold.

"Look at you, your face is a mess," he commented, casually conjuring a hand mirror.

Only when he mentioned it did Vil recall that he had not spared a single thought for the state of his make-up since waking from Lilia's ministrations. His face felt clean enough, as though someone had cleansed it of the worst, but even during and after his bath... He had neither rinsed his face nor applied a single product.

Staring in horror at the smudged eyeliner that clung persistently to the faint pockets under his eyes and the blotches of red and white that mottled his skin, Vil marveled that Leona had been able to look at him, let alone kiss him. All the while, he'd been so confident in his beauty, so sure that it was this which had won Leona over...

When he began to trace the flaws in his demeanor, including his messy froth of hair and generally wane complexion, he became aware, too, of the foul taste in his mouth... Blood and decay. And Leona had kissed him, and never said a word!

There was nothing but humiliation in Vil's eyes. He threw the mirror with every ounce of his strength, meaning to shatter it, but it didn't even clear the end of the bed, sheer weakness compounding his shame.

"Now, now. We can fix that, darling," said Crewel. Considerably more accommodating now that Leona was out of the picture. "Come. Let me―"

"Don't look at me!"

"I've seen you without make-up before, love."

"Never this hideous!" Vil sobbed, clapping his hands over his face. "I need to wash. I have to get clean, or―"

"Hush. I let you go in there alone and you'll scrub your face raw," Divus observed, with likely accuracy. He wound an arm about Vil's shoulder and began to guide him. "I'm going to wait beside you while you brush your teeth, and then I'm going to give you a facial. Hmm? Some cleanser, some toner, a venom pack, a moisturizer massage... You'll feel like yourself in no time."

Vil hated that he was leaning on this man. He wanted Divus to see him as strong and independent, not some frail young thing who needed coddling. "Don't you have classes to teach?" he asked, secretly loathing the affirmative answer even as he tried to push the man away.

"Vil, darling... It's Saturday."

"It's not." He stopped.

"It is."

"It can't be." He looked wildly about for anything that might confirm.

"And yet, it is."

"I have a hair show!" He yanked at his limp, water-washed locks.

"Not anymore. I cancelled it."

"I can't cancel! I have a reputation to―"

"No, my pet... I cancelled the whole show," crooned Divus, grinning toothily at this demonstration of his power.

"The whole... How?" Vil studied his face, marveling at that feat, and how he had been saved once again by this incredible man...whose gorgeous features suddenly made him feel like he was melting, all over again. It was impossible to look at Divus and remain in a panic.

"I have my ways," Divus told him, taking his hands and stroking them to help calm him. "Now no one will ever know you couldn't fulfill your commitment."

"...Thank you," Vil whispered, tearing up a little but holding them in check.

He was feeling much improved, but there was still a crack in his confidence. Divus was right. He needed to spoil his skin a little and fix his visage, and then he would be recovered in full. If anyone could repair the damage and make him feel whole again, it was Divus.

"Come, now. Let's get you all groomed and pampered, shall we?"

It wasn't a question. Divus was pulling him by the hand and he was led to the bathroom and handed a toothbrush loaded with toothpaste.

He felt strange, brushing his teeth in front of Divus. It was an oddly private thing to him, this action that contorted his lips and cheeks... He couldn't remember the last time he'd brushed his teeth in front of anyone else.

Unable to look at his own reflection, he watched Divus in the mirror until he bent to spit out the tainted paste and rinse his mouth out. He reloaded the toothbrush and repeated the process twice, until he was satisfied. As he rinsed the third time, Divus pulled his hair back from his face, gently, conjuring a hair brush. The long, confident strokes were calming, even when they met a tangle. In fact, the sore tug of knots made Vil smile a little because every painful pull brought him closer to being presentable again.

When Divus was finished spraying in products and brushing them through, Vil's hair felt soft and light. The professor arranged it about his face and directed Vil to look in the mirror.

"There, doesn't that feel better?" he hummed. "Now, let's cleanse around your eyes..." He then prompted Vil to face him and deftly wiped around his eyes with a spelled cotton pad. "And just to be safe..." He spelled another pad and wiped Vil's face from brow to chin, casting a dubious glance at the residue that dyed it by the time he was finished. "There, now. Use some face wash and give it a good rub..." Vil did as he was told, then rinsed his face, repeating the process several times until Divus lightly held his wrist, stopping him from continuing to his detriment.

Scrubbed and washed, his face was a little raw, a little red, but there were no more streaks or smudges, and most importantly, he felt clean. "That's much better," he whispered.

"That's just the beginning," Divus promised, taking him by the wrist and guiding him back to his room, where he ushered Vil to a seat on his bed. Divus pulled the stool from Vil's vanity near to the bed and used magic to summon a few items, floating nearby. "Close your eyes," he instructed, beginning the process of rejuvenating Vil's dry, tired skin with his own, home-made products.

There was a buzzing, all of a sudden, that made Vil cringe, but then it stopped abruptly as Divus began to slather something new on his skin. It felt strange, not at all like the products he was used to, and he suspected it was a more potent venom than he was accustomed to, but it was oddly cooling, and he gradually relaxed.

There was nothing more personal than letting another trace their fingers over his face, rubbing oils and lotions into every mortifying creasing and hollow as well as the proud rounds and dips that made Vil so handsome. He was used to having his makeup done by professionals, but this kind of skin care, he always handled himself. He knew Divus would recognize any flaw, however tiny, and he kept waiting for criticisms.

Instead, Divus made conversation—though it could hardly be considered light.

"Quite the adventure, yesterday," he drawled, slowly and lovingly running his thumbs along the hollows under Vil's eyes with a comforting, even pressure. "Malleus Draconia will be expelled, of course."

"But it's not his fault," Vil murmured, too relaxed to react with high emotion.

"Nonsense. Of course it is. He lost all semblance of control. It was an utter disgrace."

Something tingled under Vil's eyes for a moment, and then the sensation faded.

He wanted to frown, but he schooled his expression carefully, keeping his skin smooth. "There's something about him, though..." He said when the fingers rubbing his minimal laugh lines paused to take up more product. "I think he's sick."

"In which case, he needs to be treated, wouldn't you say?" A wet sound issued from Divus' direction, as if he was rubbing his palms together, and then he cupped Vil's chin, running his hands firmly down the front and sides of Vil's neck. "Either way, he can't remain at the academy. He's a danger to everyone around him. The whole school is at risk every moment he resides here."

Vil blinked his eyes open, a little sticky with moisture. "Do you really think that's fair?"

"Fair has nothing to do with it. He damn near killed you, Vil," snarled Divus, his thumbs digging in uncomfortably at the base of Vil's throat.

Vil, he'd said...

Darling, dear, love, pet... Divus had no end of nicknames for him. In public, he was always Mr. Schoenheit. The professor hardly ever used his first name.

The wayward thumbs lifted, accompanied by a look of surprise on Divus' face. "Besides..." He turned away, scooping up a pale pink cream Vil recognized from a birthday gift a year ago. It had a lovely scent of rose and jasmine. "Eyes closed..." Vil obliged. "Malleus is the crown prince of The Valley. Expulsion will hardly damage his future prospects."

That was true enough...and if Malleus was gone, Vil would win Leona hands down... But that wouldn't satisfy him, would it? He didn't want to win Leona because Malleus was out of sight and mind. He wanted to win Leona because he was, in truth, the fairest in Leona's estimation. 

Vil gasped, his head rolling back on his neck a little, as Divus began to massage all the tension out of his face, focusing on his jaw, the bridge of his nose, and around his eyes. It felt amazing.

For the first time, he wondered why he kept this man at an emotional distance. They had unparalleled chemistry in the bedroom, and he trusted Divus with his skin, which was tantamount to his life... Whether or not he trusted Divus in other departments was up for debate, but he was beginning to believe that Divus would never hurt him. He'd taken a dragon's claws on Vil's behalf.

His eyes fluttering open, Vil observed the face of the man he most desired on a physical level, and wondered what was wrong with him that his heart insisted on looking elsewhere. He barely knew Leona... At least, not beyond what he knew of most of his classmates. What was it about the lion prince that made his heart skip and his knees go weak?

He thought of the way Leona had treated him, protecting him at every turn yet never smothering him or making him feel like he couldn't fend for himself—even when he couldn't. There was a chivalry about Leona that made Vil feel treasured... That was something he could never find in Divus. Vil's lover was a generous man in many aspects, but in general, he acted out of his own interests. Even Vil's present calm, relaxation, and restored beauty was more a gift from Divus to himself than to Vil. Was that the difference...?

What, then—when he dared to admit it—did Vil desire in Malleus? What was it about the fae prince that sometimes made his heart pound and his breath catch?

He contemplated as Divus generously applied and kneaded a salve into Vil's lips, the massage both infusing them with blood and treating them with moisture until they felt plump and silky.

He didn't know what attracted him to Malleus so these days...but he wanted to find out. Vil had only just begun to discover something mysterious and fascinating in Malleus. He wasn't ready to let that go just yet.

"Now tell me, love..." Holding Vil's face in warm, gentle hands devoid of the usual leather, Divus peered right into his eyes. "Did you engage in carnal relations with Leona Kingscholar?"

Vil gasped, rocked by the volume of Divus' evident jealousy. "No," he whispered.

"Did you tell him about us to make him jealous? Hmmm?"

"He saw us," Vil confessed, surprised at how easily he offered up that secret. "After the workshop. He won't tell anyone."

"And yet... He came running back to save you from the big, bad Malleus Draconia... How did he know, I wonder?"

How did Leona know...? Why did he rush back to the classroom? How...did Malleus...know where to find Vil...? Divus was awfully clever. He made connections Vil hadn't even conceived of yet.

"Don't be too hard on the poor kitty now, darling... Any man with eyes would be jealous."

However he felt about Leona... However Malleus intrigued him... Nobody would ever make Vil feel the way Divus did―as if he was the only true thing of beauty in all the world. As if he was a precious gem to be coveted...and carved to perfection.

And Divus did carve him. With every searing kiss and demanding touch, he shaped and molded Vil to his specifications. It didn't matter if Vil was in love with Leona, or with fifty others besides. Love didn't mean a thing when he was polished to shining in Divus' arms and worshiped like he deserved only then. This man was as dark and twisted as he himself was inside, but he knew how to convert that rot to flawless beauty on the outside. Vil needed that. He needed Divus most of all.

He was achingly hard and breathing shallowly as his lover shimmied down between his legs, but instead of taking Vil into his mouth, Divus pushed Vil's hips up, rocking flexible thighs back. Only his eyes visible past a vigorous erection and bobbing balls, Divus began to dine on that uncleanly place Vil both loved and hated him to touch.

Vil was almost crying for his conflicting needs as ripples of pleasure spread beyond the motions of Crewel's tongue―almost, but not in actuality. He was through showing such weakness.

It was with that resolve in mind that he embraced the act, stretching his fingers down to touch the tips of his lover's hair as it fell to frame those sharp, gray eyes. He sighed, relaxing his hips, but his belly remained crunched so that he could see the eyes that bore into him.

Drawing his tongue free of its confines and lapping gently, Crewel eventually raised himself a little. He reached up to stroke Vil's belly.

"Relax," he crooned. "Unwind."

"But―"

"Today is all about you, darling. Don't hold back, don't fight it... Just release all that stress and tension. You're so beautiful when you climax... Let me see it."

Feeling strange, Vil lay back and gazed up at the canopy of his bed as Divus returned to licking and delving. As he began thrusting his tongue deeper, Vil grasped at the sheets, just as stimulated by the teeth scraping his sensitive skin.

He didn't have the stamina yet for a proper roll in the sheets and his lungs still ached a little, so a return blow job was out...but Divus was telling him to focus on himself... To let himself be serviced and pleasured.

This was new to Vil. Sex with Divus was always give and take, and he relished both. With those few others, there was usually a goal or a purpose toward which he worked. He didn't take lovers for recreation, not when he had the best of them all...

And Divus was very, very good. His tongue was soft, but strong, filling Vil's entrance in a way he'd never felt before; rubbing and slicking, and twisting... Then he'd take a breather and lap and circle lazily until Vil craved more.

The next time Divus' tongue pierced his barriers, Vil's body undulated in gratitude, and then fingernails raked teasingly along his length, making him cry out with need. When an adept hand wrapped about him, stroking slowly upward and then dropping down swiftly to climb languidly again, Vil's senses were torn between the tongue in his ass, the hand on his cock, and the nose nudging his balls. It was a puff of air from Divus' nostrils that sent him over the edge, blissful numbness claiming his limbs in a slow-spreading wave as all of his tension arced into the air with his orgasm.

Panting, he hummed softly when Divus systematically licked him clean. But the tongue didn't stop there. Vil's body was slick with saliva by the time Divus kissed him deeply, and then the man whispered into his ear, "Time for a little TLC."

In Divus' dictionary, that meant "Tough Love and Care". However, he continued to gently lick and kiss his way down Vil's neck, shoulder, and arm...all the way down his inner tendons, following a vein now pulsing with vitality...

Vil watched with only the slightest sense of apprehension as Divus turned his wrist to face upward, kissing it attentively with a liberal measure of teeth and tongue. Then, he produced a globe made entirely of magic, his fingers passing right through it, and pulled out a little, buzzing bee, writhing between his fingers. He held it by the body and touched its bottom to Vil's wrist...

The sting brought tears to Vil's eyes and he fought the instinct to struggle, reminding himself that the venom would tighten and smoothen his skin. He kept reminding himself of this, even as he lay still and prone some time later, his head and shoulders in Divus' lap, covered in angry welts of removed stings, now treated and slathered in soothing lotions.

Beauty was pain, and pain, beauty. The apitherapy would keep him young and beautiful, even as his peers aged and faded. Leona's looks would mature and gain a rugged, sexy edge, but that look wasn't for Vil. Malleus... Malleus was a mystery. Would  
he ever age? Had he ever used a cream or solution in his life to preserve those elegant, timeless features?

The stinging punctures made Vil's temper flare, and he shifted restlessly, regretting the motion. Nobody but Divus could ever understand just how much work he put into the perfection others took for granted. If Leona or Malleus saw him now... They simply wouldn't understand.

"Promise me..." Vil whispered, battling his own instincts. "Promise me you'll leave Malleus alone. He doesn't deserve to be expelled."

"I will not," Divus said coldly, his tone deep and laden with warning.

Sitting up, Vil winced as the punctures—now empty of stings—pulled and complained. He set his jaw, letting his eyes show just how serious he was. "Promise me," he said again.

His expression just as concrete, Divus' lips were turned down in a clear sign of disapproval. "First that dratted feline, now the overgrown lizard? You try my patience, Vil."

"Promise me."

*

It was still blessedly dark when Malleus woke, and he realized he had slept exceedingly early. He felt numbed but oddly energized. There was a buzzing in the back of his mind, insisting that he rise and get to work early to make up for an entire day lost.

He had a presentation to finish researching and preparing for, and seeing as how his partner was indisposed, he would need to do double the work to make sure that everything was ready when Vil was feeling better so they could make the presentation together and earn top marks. 

Not that Malleus minded so much whether he got the best grades or merely passed all of his courses, but it mattered to Vil, and that meant that Malleus had to put his all into this assignment. He was looking forward to seeing Vil's reaction when he demonstrated the presentation in full. The Djinn models were sure to impress.

As it was too early to send Sebek to the library to pick up more books, Malleus threw on a night robe and worked feverishly away on sorting all of the information he had gleaned so far and arranging it into a clever order in which to divulge. It was more difficult than he had thought. His capacity for retaining knowledge was excellent, but his mind contained so much information, he often found it difficult to track down the right pieces at the right times. Harder still was arranging that information into a clear and logical progression. When one knew where one intended to end up, it wasn't always easy to identify the most progressive path as opposed to taking a straight line, or skipping the journey all together.

By the time Sebek popped his head inside Malleus' door, carrying fresh clothes and boots, Malleus had drafted and redrafted three different introductions and several possible flow charts. There were lumps, balls, and loose leaves of paper everywhere.

"Master Malleus! You're awake! What is this you are working on so diligently? Please, slow down, Master Malleus. I'll wake Silver right away and have him prepare some fresh, hot tea, just the way you like it! Hang in there, Master Malleus. Whatever you're working on, I'm sure it will go much more smoothly once you've had some tea! And...perhaps bathed... Yes... Silver...!"

Largely ignoring Sebek's fretting, Malleus continued his work, frustrated that it wasn't going according to plan. He was just about to start over again with a list of topics he wanted to cover, working backwards from conclusion to intro, when Lilia swept in, cleared the floor and desk of paper debris in one motion, and hauled Malleus up by the scruff of his collar.

"The bath is ready for you. You can't go to magic shift practice looking like a used brothel lad."

Malleus blinked slowly, and then gradually remembered that things like magic shift and practice existed, and that he was expected to take part in them. 

"I'm not going today," he announced.

Letting go of his shirt and allowing Malleus to gain his footing, Lilia crossed his arms. "And why, pray tell, not?"

Malleus almost shied under that critical, assessing gaze, but he knew his place, and Lilia ought to as well. "Because I have decided it." The scowl that began to form and the violent flash of red in Lilia's generally pretty eyes made him think twice. "And because I have an assignment to complete. I am to make a presentation...together with Vil Schoenheit...about the Djinn Wars."

"Malleus, my boy, Vil is..." Lilia slowed and paused, his half-lidded eyes seeming sleepy for a moment. "Vil is very lucky to have you for a partner." He nodded, pleased with himself over something. "But surely you can come outside and get some fresh air and practice. It will clear your head."

The moment Lilia made mention of "outside," Malleus tensed throughout, caught in a flash panic. Shivers ran up and down his flesh until he shook his head. "No. I'm staying here. To work on the assignment."

If he stayed in his room, he couldn't hurt anyone. If he stayed in his room, he couldn't run across anything he would later wish he could scrub from his mind. He couldn't run into anyone he didn't want to meet...like Leona...and he wouldn't have to face the chaos and despair he had caused.

"At least take a bath," Lilia wheedled, frowning as though puzzling over a half-knitted woolen scarf that had gotten tangled somewhere along the line. "If you want to do well in your assignment, you should work with a fresh mind and clean body. You'll feel a lot brighter. When you are done, Silver will make you some tea, and then you can dive back into your work, happy as Laureli."

Though Sebek usually helped him to undress and tended to him while he bathed, Malleus shut his manservant out of the washroom. He was acting on instinct, for he hadn't yet remembered why his body was not fit to be seen by Sebek or anybody else...

Once he began to pull off his clothes, however, he began to feel it. His muscles ached and there were scratches and rents on his hips and back, in addition to several bite marks imprinted upon his lily white flesh. He was dirty with sweat, and still tainted with his own ejaculation as well as that of Leona within him. Naked, bared only to the scrutiny of those of his forebears who might be watching, Malleus stood there, listlessly staring off into space and forgoing all thought.

"Master Malleus? Are you ready to come out yet?"

Stirring, Malleus looked down at himself, still caked in filth and sin. He looked at the bath, reaching for the water, only to feel that it had gone cold.

Without much thought, he cast a torrent upon himself, washing his skin clean, if not his soul. It wasn't enough. At least with the worst of the crud washed from his skin, he could step into the cold water of the bath and lower himself down without contaminating the water with his defilement.

Mechanically, he rubbed the areas of himself that were raw, or that stung, and those areas prone to excess sweat during physical exertion... He peremptorily scrubbed around his crotch with his fingers and nails, and then hesitantly reached behind himself. It was awkward, cleansing his body of the dregs of another man, but if he thought about it too much, it was not shame that caused his cheeks to flush and his breath to hitch.

Eventually, as Malleus sat shivering in the cold water, his knees drawn up to his chest, Sebek burst in, having reached his limit of waiting dutifully without any kind of response. He stopped in his tracks, spotting Malleus trembling there in the water, and then fetched a towel in a fluster of distress.

Malleus pinned Sebek with his eyes, his body sheltered beneath the water line, and said, "Leave it."

Obedient to a fault, Sebek did exactly as he was told, turning and walking to the door where he calmly folded the towel over the handle. He hesitated, and then left without a word when ordered.

Malleus left the water of the tub behind, but a strange, paranoid thought ate away at him until he boiled the water off to dissipate rapidly into the air. Let no evidence remain for Sebek or the others to find and know that their prince was a degenerate.

Once Malleus had dried the sodden mass of his hair some and wrapped the towel about himself, the door opened just wide enough for a hand to reach through with impeccable timing. 

"Your clothes, master Malleus."

"Thank you, Sebek," Malleus intoned, taking the offered garments and dressing quickly.

Lilia's insistence that he bathe was not amiss. Malleus felt a little more grounded, and much fresher. No longer did the feel of dried semen chafe at his senses, and the scent of his sweat was replaced with that of damp hair. Even that did not remain for long, as Sebek insisted on fluffing around his horns with a fresh towel until his hair was near dry.

As he sat down to his breakfast and a steaming hot cup of tea at his desk, Malleus did feel a little more himself. Sniffing the wafting brew, he let out a heavy sigh, and a few of his cares floated away on the breeze of it. He took a sip. It was hot, and scolded his trachea on the way down. Malleus winced, but he drank down a larger gulp.

As the heat of it burned through him, flashes of memories burned through Malleus' mind, in turn. Leona's eyes, Vil on his knees, Vil dying, Crewel grinning, Leona falling upon Vil's seizing body in a blind panic, masturbating alone in his room...

"Hang on! It's too hot!" Lilia scolded, bustling in. "And I haven't added..." Trailing off, Lilia snatched the tea out of Malleus' hand. He was carrying a vial much like the one he had expended the day before. "Thorn of the Valley isn't just effective against poisons," he said proudly, "It also helps to settle ailments of the heart and mind. A little of this and you ought to blast right through your assign..." Falling silent, Lilia stared at the tea, his eyes wide and his expression gradually growing more shocked.

Was there a bug in the cup? As Malleus frowned, standing to get a look at what had Lilia so stunned, the cup began to bubble over with a black froth, and Malleus fell back into his seat, confounded.

"Silver must have spelled it...to stay warm," he said, relatively calmly.

There was fear flaring within him, but it was unfounded. There were any number of spells Silver could have worked into the tea to help Malleus relax, or focus his mind... The young mortal had learned so much already since coming to Nightraven...

"Raw, untreated Thorn of the Valley only reacts like this to malicious magic," Lilia said softly, a moment before he flung the tea cup at the stone wall. It cracked open, sending its contents splattering across the wall and down to the floor.

"Then...it can't have been Silver," Malleus whispered, but his mind suggested otherwise.

Was Silver happy in his household? Perhaps the human boy resented his fae upbringing. Perhaps he was simply biding his time, waiting to slaughter them all. Perhaps he was acting on Lilia's orders, and it was Lilia who—

"Malleus, you drank some of that tea. How do you feel right now?"

Shaking his head, Malleus raised a hand to his temple. "Tired... Angry... I don't...feel like myself."

"Is it familiar, this sensation?"

Malleus nodded. He'd felt it often lately, growing more and more within him, a darkness rising up into the storm that had been unleashed the day before, and still, it churned inside of him, rearing up now like an ugly black cloud.

"Have you often felt...especially disturbed...after drinking your morning tea?"

Gazing up at Lilia with a plea in his eyes, Malleus silently begged him to say it wasn't true—that Silver had not been lacing his tea with some kind of dark, malicious magic.

Taking Malleus' silence for his answer, Lilia shouted for Sebek. The diligent manservaant appeared right away.

"Clean up that tea, please," said the pint-sized vice dorm leader. "Don't ask questions, don't mention it to anyone. Do not tell Silver," he specified.

Sebek rushed to do as asked, casting questioning glances at both Lilia and Malleus as he did so. Malleus, meanwhile, was swallowing down bile, trying not to vomit. The very prospect of betrayal by someone so near to him made him feel cold from tip to tail. Betrayal in itself was no surprise. A prince always had enemies, but Silver... Silver was like family, as close to him as Sebek... Could Sebek be in on it, too? Plagued by an endlessly spiraling well of doubts, Malleus couldn't speak if he wanted to, and Lilia was pacing. 

"Stay there, and don't say a word," the little vampire directed once the spillage was clean and the cup removed. He then left, briefly, to fetch Silver—who had probably fallen asleep in the kitchen.

All the while he was gone, Malleus resolutely faced the blank surface of a fresh sheet of paper and cradled the ornate fountain pen he used for his studies between thumb and finger. He had to figure out the order of their presentation. It was going to be very important. If he didn't get it right, Vil would be disappointed in him. He didn't want Vil to be disappointed in him. He felt, right now, as if such disappointment would break him...

He hadn't written a word when he heard Lilia approaching, chatting lightly away to Silver as they entered the room. "Malleus quite enjoyed his tea this morning," Lilia was saying. "He wanted to know more. It wasn't different from the usual, was it?" he asked casually.

"Different...? No. I always use the same tea," Silver drawled, blinking tiredly.

"Oh? What kind of tea is it?" Lilia questioned, taking a seat on the edge of Malleus' bed as if completely unconcerned.

"It's, uh..." Silver's expression went blank, and he seemed to be thinking nothing at all. Then, he said, "I think he said it was narcissus and foxglove."

Malleus burned with the many questions that statement lit within him. He wrote down the names of those two ingredients, underlining foxglove several times. He was no Vil, but even he knew that foxglove was poisonous as a tea. Did Silver truly have no idea? Could it have been an honest mistake?

"Narcissus?" Lilia asked slowly. "That's a kind of daffodil, isn't it?"

"I...guess so," Silver mumbled. His eyes went blank again. He shook his head. "Sorry, Papa. I'm still sleepy. I think... Daffodil and dandelion teas are very healthy. And...all the fae back home love the bell-shaped flowers of the foxglove plant. I'm... I'm glad you like it, Malleus. I'll make sure to get some more when it runs low."

"From Sam's shop?" Lilia pressed, his voice so high and light even Silver had to be catching on by now that something was very, very wrong.

"No, uh... I asked the professor about...teas for...good health...and he gave me this... Is something the matter, Papa?"

Malleus gripped his pen tightly, thinking to stab it through the table, but it snapped in his grasp, exploding all over his note paper, drenching it with ink.

"Professor Crewel gave you that tea?" he growled, staring resolutely at the wall because he didn't want to lose control again and hurt someone else who mattered to him.

"Thank you, Silver," Lilia said hastily. "You'd better get down to practice, and take Sebek. Malleus and I...might not make it this morning. I'm going to help him with his presentation. Run along now."

"He's been poisoning me," Malleus snarled, the insistant Silver was out the door.

"Calm yourself. We don't know that yet," Lilia sniffed. "That tea could have any number of properties. It won't do any good to jump to conclusions and condemn a professor without solid evidence."

"Would you prefer I condemn Silver?" Malleus shot back.

"Don't you dare!" Lilia said haughtily. "He's a sweet child. He only wanted to help you."

"He's been poisoning me!" Malleus repeated, this time referring to Silver.

"He's under a spell of some sort, can't you see? Silver would never ever do anything to hurt you..." Shaking his head, Lilia looked so sad it shook some of the fury from Malleus' core. "You're not in your right mind," he said flatly. "You will be, once I analyze that tea and figure out how to reverse its effects."

"And what's to stop me from tearing Divus Crewel apart while you're gone?"

It was not so much a challenge Malleus issued as a warning. He was fighting his instincts even at that very moment, when his blood was rushing in his veins and whispering at him to hunt down the Professor of Alchemy.

For one, fleeting moment, Lilia looked lost, but then he stood up and walked over to Malleus' desk, clearing the ink spill with magic. He smoothed down a fresh sheaf of paper and summoned in his own pen, easing it between Malleus' fingers. 

"You have a presentation to compose," he said softly. "Vil has very high standards, so you're going to have to work very hard at it, my boy..." Leaning down, Lilia kissed Malleus softly between the horns. "Calm," he said. "Cold..."

"Calculating," Malleus breathed, almost habitually.

"Clarity," Lilia whispered, swiping a finger affectionately down Malleus' nose. "Don't ever let someone else control or manipulate your emotions."

"But the magic—"

"Leave the magic to me," Lilia urged. "You just focus on what you need to do. Right now...you need to write down a spellbinding speech about why the Djinn make terrible dinner guests."

"That's not—"

"Isn't it?" Lilia asked, his eyes sparkling so with mirth that Malleus felt his heart lighten. "Well, they do. I'll tell you all about it when I get back, so go on and put that pen to paper. Imagine how you would explain all of your research to Vil. Pretend he's sitting there listening, and try narrating it out loud. You'll be done in a jiffy."

Malleus was several lines in when Lilia eventually slipped out the door, but he was so wrapped up in the flow that was beginning to make perfect sense to him that he hardly noticed the soft click of the door closing. Finally, he felt like he had come up with a brilliant introduction that Vil could be proud of. He wished they could write it together, but he was sure Vil would find ways to further improve it, so he relaxed into the work and let it consume his mind.


	7. Foxglove and Narcissus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter essentially contains themes of a date-rape like drug and explicit sibling incest.

"Leona."

Having been standing in the Hall of Mirrors, completely paralyzed, for who knew how long, Leona jumped at the sound of Lilia's voice speaking his name. He had stormed out of Vil's quarters in a blind rage and made it this far before realizing he had no idea where he was going. The one place he wanted to go, he would not be welcome, and he was not yet ready to face that conflict.

Yet here it was, coming to him. While he may not be able to stomp on into Diasomnia for fear of being turned away, there was nothing to stop its students from finding him.

"How is he?" Leona asked, nervously.

"He's...been better. Frankly, he seems to be a few bunnies short of a hutch," Lilia said reluctantly, continuing to gaze grumpily at Leona for some time before finally muttering, "It wasn't your fault. Help me, and I'll prove it."

"What are you talking about?" Leona asked, frowning. He didn't like the unhappy cast to Lilia's usually cheerful features. "What's going on?"

Lilia looked reluctant but finally shook his head. "There's no one else I can trust with this. Even Silver... Come with me, and I'll explain. The work will go faster with an assistant."

His mouth going dry, Leona debated again whether or not it was a good idea to confront Malleus when he was still conflicted over Vil, but if he had an opening... "Then will you let me see him?" he asked.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Lilia sighed.

"I have to see him," Leona whispered. "Until I do, I don't think I have any chance of knowing what it is I want."

"Suit yourself. Help me do this, for Malleus' sake, and then you can see him."

By the time he'd heard all Lilia was willing to tell, Leona was certain there was more to the story, and that Lilia was withholding information—like who had been drugging Malleus, in particular—but he didn't press. Lilia was in no mood for it, and he made it clear that if Leona cared for Malleus, he would prioritize the fae prince's well-being over taking revenge.

Only when the questionable tea was being distilled did Lilia finally ask after Vil, which resulted in an awkward moment of silence before Leona confessed everything. He knew he shouldn't, not if he wanted Lilia's blessing to pursue Malleus, but somehow, it was difficult to lie or hide anything from Lilia. Besides, he was still confused, and maybe Lilia's sharp intuition could help him find some answers. Or, perhaps, vilify him for the shameful way he had parted from Vil that morning. He did not mention Divus Crewel, in spite of his deep desire to hurt that man even in so petty a way as slandering his reputation. It was Vil whose reputation would truly suffer.

"A fine mess this is," Lilia murmured, flicking the tube containing a concentrated extract of the tea. "You're too close to it to see what's happening, I'm sure, so let me break it down for you... Vil is in love with you, that much you've been told. You are in love with Malleus, that much you know for yourself... And Malleus... Malleus is in love with Vil."

Leona paused, setting down the catalyst he'd been preparing. "He told you that?"

"Ha! He's completely clueless, himself! But he's an open book to me, is Malleus Draconia. Believe you me. He's horns over heels for Vil." Lilia made an impatient gesture for Leona to keep his hands busy. "Under any other circumstances, I would enjoy sitting back with some popcorn and watching you three burn down the barn... But this is personal, now."

Smothering his smoldering temper, Leoona carefully placed his hands on the bench, so as not to break anything out of anger. "Who did it, Lilia? Who's been poisoning Malleus?"

"It's not who did it. It's who's behind it that matters. But first I need to know how...and what exactly has been done, so stop asking pointless questions and bring me that empty beaker over there."

Leona did as he was told, working in silence for a while. He didn't doubt that Malleus had feelings for Vil. He'd seen signs of it, himself, though he didn't want to admit it.

So what? Vil had confessed to having feelings for Leona, so he wasn't likely to go frolicking into Malleus' arms, no matter what the fae prince felt... Or was he? Clearly, Vil wasn't bound by traditional concepts of fidelity and monogamy. He didn't love Crewel, and yet he seemed to have no intention of breaking things up there to be with Leona...

Why should that make Leona feel guilty? Not even jealous... Guilty. Certainly, he didn't feel bad about horning in on Crewel's boy-toy... It was Malleus. In the end, it was always Malleus.

If Leona loved Malleus, and Malleus was in love with someone else, then shouldn't he step aside and let them be together? But what of Vil, who loved Leona? Would that be fair, to reject him, and hurt him, just so Malleus could be happy? Leona certainly would not wind up happy...but maybe Vil might. Maybe that really was the solution, even if it sucked.

But then, why had Lilia urged him to take care of Vil, if he knew how Malleus felt about the Pomfiore prefect? Why would he push Leona and Vil closer together if it would hurt Malleus in the end? Did Lilia not approve of Vil? Was he trying to make Leona and Vil an item so as to spare Malleus, somehow?

He didn't know everything, though...did he? He couldn't know about the affair Vil was having with Crewel... Or the unwholesome, interfamilial activity between Leona and his damned brother... Everyone had their secrets, it seemed. Perhaps Malleus did, too. Perhaps he and Lilia...

No, that seemed unlikely, somehow. Lilia had not been pleased by what happened between Leona and Malleus the previous day, but his concern was decidedly platonic in nature, if not...fatherly.

The tumult of confusion within Leona was only exacerbated by the new piece of information. The discomfort churning in his stomach at his cruel parting words to Vil had Leona feeling mildly queasy. He was in no mood to converse any more about the circumstances, and even less about trivialities, so he bent his mind to the work before them, and Lilia seemed inclined to do the same.

As they day wore on, Lilia and Leona learned that the tea was not intended to be used as poison in the traditional sense. It would do no physical harm to Malleus, whose fae body was resistant to many poisons that would be devastating to mortals, and certainly to foxglove, which was a flower much favored by the fae for its aesthetics. Rather, the ingredients appeared to be the components of a spell, which meant that the one making or serving the tea must have completed the spell after brewing and before it was delivered to Malleus.

Narcissus was for the ego, and any spell using it as a component would affect the mind, almost like a hallucinogen, and specifically target one's sense of self. Foxglove, a flower that indicated insincerity, would serve to create an intertwining of truth and fiction. This combination could result in a dark and potent working of shadows and madness, particularly effective on someone like Malleus with a natural proclivity for the darker forces and a big heart to target.

"It's one of those two stooges, isn't it?" Leona growled, putting the pieces together over time, though he tried not to think too hard on it. "That's why you're protecting them."

"No!" Lilia looked fierce, his features contorted into a fearful mask of wrath. "They're not to blame, either one of them, and they're no stooges!" He seethed. "Someone else is behind this. The person who provided this tea has my Silver under a spell of some sort. You will not lay a paw on my family, do you hear me?"

"Then tell me where the tea came from!" Leona snarled. He was sick of this game. He'd been working patiently at Lilia's side all day long, but his patience was sorely limited, and it was coming to a definitive end.

"Isn't it obvious!?" Lilia snapped. "Who else but a master of potions!"

Leona's blood ran cold and the expression drained from his face, his features going slack. "Crewel," he growled. "That slimy bastard... I'll fucking kill him."

"Not if Malleus gets to him first..." Lilia's face fell and he took on a desperation that looked out of place on his small face. "Leona, please help me finish this. I need to devise a counterspell before my sweet prince does something he will regret."

It made sense, but Leona was rife with fury. "Or, I could go rip out that fickle bitch's throat right now, and spare Malleus the trouble."

He was paralyzed again, because he wanted so badly to go and do just that, but Lilia was instilling a voice of reason in him that told him that wasn't the way. He waited, giving Lilia the chance to talk him around. He owed the vice prefect that much, at least.

"What good would that do?" As if sensing Leona's willingness to listen, Lilia calmed himself and presented his arguments with cool logic. "If I can't create a counterspell, we need Divus Crewel to undo what has been done. Restoring Malleus' sanity is paramount! This is the most important thing to be done right now. Walk away from this...and you walk away from Malleus forever," he added, his gaze a stern promise that he would enforce this fate. "Revenge means nothing if Malleus cannot be saved."

Leona waited for sense to kick in, letting those words wash over him. But instead of sense...his mind bypassed what he needed to understand in favor of answering questions that had not even been asked yet.

Vil. This was about Vil.

Crewel was petty and jealous, and he couldn't allow Malleus' feelings for Vil to win his lover over... Which meant that Leona was next. Crewel knew he'd spent the night in Vil's room... Maybe he even knew about Vil's feelings for Leona.

There was something nagging at the edges of his mind... A box he didn't want to open, for fear of what would be unleashed upon his psyche. The moment he focused on it, it was too late.

"There's a way," Leona said quietly. "And you know it."

"No," Lilia said flatly.

"What happened yesterday between Malleus and me... It wasn't just hormones and confusion. It was ritual. Sex magic. The transference and manipulation of energy from one body to another."

"It's too dangerous," Lilia said quietly. "It would take someone practiced. Someone like..."

"No!"

Someone like Divus Crewel.

"Fuck no!" Leaona roared.

"Exactly," Lilia responded, deadpan. "So help me find a way to counter this magic that doesn't involve begging the devil himself for mercy, if that is even what it could be called."

Leona's selfish instinct to take measures to protect himself from an attack that was surely coming warred with his deep desire to restore Malleus. This wasn't like a slap on the wrist for slobbering on library books out of hours... This was a matter of life and death—maybe on a grand scale.

It was Leona upon whose conscience rested the previous day's events, so he had to see this through. Saving Malleus was a step toward his own redemption. He could worry about what he'd gotten himself into with Vil once that was taken care of. It was the only way to keep them all safe... Well, all of them except, possibly, Leona, anyway.

*

Vil was certainly a weakness in him. Divus was not pleased to have been forced into making a promise that circumvented his plans, but there was little he could do in the face of Vil's insistence. It rankled that his clever little pet was so protective of the fae prince, despite his affections leaning toward the meddling lion. Malleus Draconia was not to be underestimated—a lesson learned at the tip of a horn less than 24 hours prior. Divus would have to find some other way to punish Malleus for trying to come between he and his young love.

Frankly, Divus was a little shaken. He was shocked to learn just how close he had come to losing Vil while he had been plotting and planning. He had placed far too much faith in their long-term program of mithridatism, never believing that Malleus Draconia could be so powerful as to completely overwhelm Vil's resistance to poisons... Even Divus had never had the opportunity to study the exact potency of Dragon's Breath. He had learned of Lilia's unusual extraction from class from Trein, and figured that the little Diasomnian had been drafted to deal with the crisis, but the reality of how close Vil had come to dying was a complete shock. The sight of Vil that morning had rocked Divus. He never wanted to see Vil so defeated, or so...disheveled. It was unthinkable. He would need to be more careful going forward, particularly in his handling of the unexpectedly vicious Malleus.

In the meantime, there was something to be done about Leona Kingscholar. It was a simple enough setup, though the magic required was significant. Divus was going to need to replenish his reserves before too long at the rate events were progressing.

Creating a homunculus was no easy feat, but Divus had completed his preparations overnight, which was the only reason he had not been by Vil's side sooner. The convenient hairs littering the chaise lounge that footed Vil's bed were the exact material he needed to complete the working that would transform the small, faceless figure into a fully-scaled apparition of Leona's hidden desires. Frankly, Divus was fascinated to see what would result. Perhaps Malleus Draconia would take form and kill two rivals with one stone in Vil's eyes... Or perhaps the homunculus would take on the form of Vil, himself. Spinning that affair would require some finesse on Divus' part, but he was sure he could use it to turn Vil against the lion. Instigating a fight, perhaps, might lead to an encounter so rough the homunculus would meet an unfortunate end before Vil's very eyes, wearing his own, exquisite face...

There were many possibilities for every eventuality, but Divus was secretly hoping for the convenience of Malleus. When the manifestation ritual was complete, however, his hopes were betrayed...but not to his detriment. In fact, the only reason he had not dared to hope for so scandalous an outcome was because it had never even occurred to him that Leona could be so depraved and twisted as to harbor a secret lust for his own brother, the king of the Afterglow Savannah.

Admiring the living doll's naked, true-to-life form, Divus was forced to admit he couldn't fault Leona's taste...only his morals—a factor Divus was hardly fit to pass judgement upon. Be that as it may, Leona's shocking vice was precisely the ammunition Divus needed to crucify Vil's annoying little crush on the lion once and for all.

"Who are you?" he asked the homunculus, circling it slowly and running a hand over the bronzed muscles like some artistic masterpiece.

"Farena Kingscholar," replied the homunculus, emulating perfectly the King of Beast's haughty tone and cool command. "Tell me, Master, what exactly is your will?"

Crewel's lip rose in a crooked smile that only grew more lopsided as he took in the view of the generous endowment between his fake Farena's thighs. Aside from the submissive term of address and willingness to serve, the mannerisms were perfect. The physical likeness...perfection.

Such a shame the working could only withstand so much before returning to the state of its original components. Divus would have relished a test run.

"Seduce the one from whom you were created," Divus ordered, reluctantly taking a step away from the handsome creature. "All you need do is to have your way with Leona Kingscholar until neither of you can move any longer." From a pocket in his coat, Divus produced a little bottle with an eyedropper lid. "A taste of this tincture on your lips, and he will be powerless to resist...assuming he even wanted to in the first place." Applying a few drops of distilled seed of the incubus to Farena's generous bottom lip, Divus carefully spread the viciously potent aphrodisiac, taking care to disinfect the tips of his glove when he was finished. Even knowing exactly what made those big, plump lips glisten and shine, he was still tempted to taste them himself by the time he was done, but as much fun as it would be to take a drug-induced roll in the hay with the chiseled likeness of the King of beasts, it simply wasn't on the schedule. Checking the time, Divus was pleased with his progress. He was right on track. "Evening approaches. Come. A loyal portrait has been keeping tabs in the science labs, and I know just where Leona will be headed...and it couldn't be more perfect had I orchestrated it myself."

*

The temperate greenhouse immediately had a lulling effect on Leona, who was beginning to feel utterly weary from the exploits of the last few days. He simply wasn't accustomed to such high drama, complicated emotions, and the physical endurance of recent encounters combined with the exhaustive lab work of unraveling a powerful hex.

Lilia had sent him to gather a bouquet of herbs known for hex-breaking characteristics, including rosemary, nettle, and rue, all of which could be found in a herb garden within the greenhouse. Feeling the strain, however, he was drawn to a little brook, bubbling through a pretty little patch of lavender beds. A brief splash on his face and he'd be good to go.

Crouched before the brook, he shuddered at the cold splash, then rubbed the excess water from his eyelids and cheeks, appreciating the warmth of his own hands, if not the calluses. In fact, it felt good to massage around his eyes and jaw, taking away some of the unaccustomed tension gathering in his face...

"Hello, brother."

The last voice Leona expected to hear anywhere on school grounds caused him to freeze, fingers pressed to his face. Slowly, he brought them down, wondering if he was going mad. Whipping around as if to catch the hallucination by surprise, Leona was shocked to find that his eyes confirmed what his ears had suggested.

"Farena..." Warily, he stood, wishing he were in a more defensible position, preferably with a wall to defend his back. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I missed you," Farena murmured, advancing a step closer with a predatory intent that raised Leona's hackles.

"It's only been a couple of days," Leona growled, not at all sure what Farena was playing at, sounding so warm and sentimental.

"Has it?" Farena asked, as though genuinely surprised for a moment. His expression melted to one of sheer, cocksure swagger. "It feels like so much longer."

"You... You can't be here," Leona stuttered, glancing subtly around for an exit route. His body was already responding to Farena's presence, and he couldn't afford to let it get the better of him. "You can't just come to my school, and—"

Farena chuckled. "I can go anywhere I want," he said. "That's the benefit of being king. Careful, brother..." Like some kind of heroic savior, he scooped Leona into his arms as the younger Kingscholar's heel edged into the bed of the brook, threatening to undermine his balance. Caught up in Farena's arms, Leona was flushed with heat, his breath growing shallow. "You should be more careful where you tread."

The way Leona's heart was beginning to pound, it was as if he'd never been in that position before...but in a way, he hadn't. There was something about Farena's manner that was gentler, almost more...romantic...than ever before. He wasn't usually so soft-spoken, or so...chivalrous. Normally, if they were alone like this, it immediately led to a vicious battle of wills that would usually have Leona's nose in the dirt by now, his body subject to Farena's whims.

"What are you doing?" he gasped, feeling inexplicably lost. He should be taking this opportunity to extricate himself and flee to a more populated part of the academy, but part of him was secretly hoping Farena would place those slightly glossy lips over his in a way he hadn't since they'd first battled for dominance at Leona's coming of age...

"I told you," Farena began, his voice suddenly much deeper and darker, weighted down by the familiar tone of lust. "I've missed you."

And then Farena did kiss him...and for the second time in two days, Leona's senses were overcome by a feverish passion. It was completely unlike the hex that had swept him up together with Malleus, and in his more lucid moments, he attributed the overwhelming desire to Farena's rare, seductive manner, and to the confusion that already roiled in him. As if he needed one more romantic complication right now...

"This is insane," Leona moaned, burning up at the touch of Farena's lips down his chest. "We're in the school greenhouse. Anyone could—"

"So keep it down, little brother...or we'll get caught."

The motivation might be a little different from usual, but that smug, haughty manner was Farena to the core. Leona wished he could take that advice, but it was as though he had no control over his vocal cords. The moans and growls that slipped from him grew steadily more common, and gradually louder, until he was a mess of erotic sounds, his body immolated with desire.

Looking back, Leona couldn't estimate how long they stayed there, crushing fragrant herbs under their tolling bodies, or even how many times Farena wrung climax after climax from him. At times it was soft and sweet, and other times rough and desperate. He only knew he couldn't get enough of the way Farena rumbled his name and caressed his skin. For a time, he forgot all about Malleus, and Vil... He forgot all about Divus Crewel, Lilia Vanrouge, and his various troubles... All he could think about was the man he had spent most of his young life obsessing over, as if all of that obsession was clouding his mind at once, turning him into a slave to his passion.

As Farena took him, yet again, face down in the dirt, Leona clawed at the Earth, desperate to cum but already wrung almost completely dry. His eyes leaked tears, instead, as his body clamored for insatiable release...

And then he heard it. A tiny, dainty gasp almost drowned out by Farena's snarl of ecstasy, right by his ear. Straining his neck, Leona raised his chin to catch sight of a tall pair of legs. Craning his neck back, he followed the form upward to find the face he was most terrified he would see gazing down at him in shock and disgust.

It was at that moment that Leona finally understood. He had been dead for days. He was in Hell. This torment of sex and scandal was his personal punishment for living a selfish life of sin.

"Vil, wait—!"

Even as Leona called out in a small, hoarse voice, Farena struck hard within him and his world flickered. When his vision cleared, Vil was gone, but Farena was still there, driving him to utter madness with a pleasure so voracious it bordered on pain.

*

Though he had been cautioned about resting, Vil had decided to do some stretches at the least. Even if he wasn't ready to lift weights, he had to keep his body fit. After all, muscle mass went a long way toward absorbing poisons, and his lithe musculature had contributed to saving his life. It was important to stay on top of his fitness.

He did try to push his limits a little with some squats, but it only took one or two to see that he didn't have it in him. Instead, he put on some comfortable clothes and looked over the list of herbs Divus had left for him.

_Lemongrass_

_Verbena_

_Foxglove_

_Thyme_

_Narcissus_

_Clover_

_Sage_

It was an odd list of things Divus wanted in addition to those he prescribed for Vil, but just as his lover had suggested, a walk would indeed be the best way to get his blood pumping and keep him from going too soft, so Vil set out. He was surprised once he realized that what felt like his usual brisk pace was actually quite slow compared to the other students he ran into in the halls. It was enough to humble him.

Thus, though he set out around sunset, it was well dark by the time he entered the greenhouse, illuminated by dim globes, some seasonal fireflies, and the occasional phosphorescent plant. Vil would have preferred to go while it was still light and bask in the sun under the dome with the scents of nature all around him and the excess of oxygen filling him with every breath...but it was lovely at night, too. In fact, the benefits all remained the same, except that the warm embrace of the sun was replaced with the mysterious glow of the moon.

Vil gathered some gloves and a trowel and basket. He also grabbed a plastic mask for protection against the harmful pollen of the foxglove, slipping it into his pocket. Then, he headed toward the area where wildflowers grew.

It was every so quiet, kneeling there in front of a patch of narcissus. If he closed his eyes, Vil could almost hear the plants breathing. Except... Plants didn't moan. Someone was certainly having some fun.

Feeling adventurous, and perhaps a little perverse, Vil followed the slight sounds of pleasure until they grew loud and unabashed, and he could tell there was only a bit of foliage between him and the fornicating couple. They were taking a roll in the herbs, apparently, which was inconvenient, considering Vil needed some of those...but it was ever so fragrant. He tried to guess who the couple were by the sounds of their passion, but they were too far gone to employ names, and the only clues were the occasional growls that indicated Savanaclaw.

An image of Leona came to mind, and Vil was sure that at least one of those growls could pass as his, but it certainly wasn't, not after recent events, anyway. He amused himself by trying to guess, and imagined that the deeper voice might belong to Jack...but he couldn't imagine sweet, darling Jack sounding quite that aggressive under any circumstances.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Vil crept around to a spot from which he could peek, but what he saw shocked him so profoundly, he walked right out into the open to identify the second man, because the voice that had sounded like Leona's...was. If only that had been the worst of it.

_"I know I can't say shit about you and Crewel. I guess, it reminds me too much of how I am with... With this guy."_

_"You won't tell me who."_

_"No."_

_"Even though you know I'm screwing a professor. It can't be worse than that."_

_"It can and it is, so no. Don't ask me again."_

Oh, it was worse. It was so much worse. Farena Kingscholar, unmistakable ruler of the Afterglow Savannah and Leona's older brother, slowly drew his hips back, dragging his cock almost free of Leona's raised ass. With a wicked grin, the king raised his face, his keen, amber eyes boring into Vil's and eliciting an involuntary gasp from the stunned prefect.

As if in slow motion, Leona reacted to that gasp, gradually raising his face until he met Vil's eyes with an expression of mortification tainted by pure bliss. He tried to speak, but Farena nailed him so hard he couldn't form another word, and Vil was already running.

It wasn't panic, or embarrassment, or even disgust that caused Vil to flee... It was the magnitude of his own stupidity.

Leona had told him there was someone else. He just hadn't realized it was so...current, so...devastatingly perverted, so...

Erotic. Everything about it was wrong. Everything. And yet... Vil had never seen anything that made his groin ache quite like that. The look on Leona's face would be burned into his memory until the end of time. The poetic motion of the two ripped lions was something he could never have imagined in his most vivid fantasies.

Once he stopped running—more of a clumsy trot than his usual elegant gait—and found a convenient space far from the herb garden and walled off by immense birds of paradise, Vil collapsed to his knees and fought to catch his breath. He willed away the erection that wanted to convince him that what he had seen was okay—spectacular, even!—and that it was nothing to be upset about... But it was. Vil was in love with someone who was a slave to his desire for his own flesh and blood. Vil was in love with someone who would stay by his side all day long and kiss him one moment, and then drown himself in pleasure with another man the next.

So what if he'd been warned? There was no way Vil could have been prepared for that. So what if he had another lover of his own? There was no way Vil could accept such callous dismissal. Had he thought Malleus was his greatest rival? He didn't know the half of it...

Farena Kingscholar was more than just Leona's big brother (a benchmark to live up to all on its own), he was also a king so regal and respected, even Vil had lived in awe of him until today. He was a living Adonis, with a body to die for. He was the quintessential alpha male, and by all accounts, still a generous and loving individual.

Who also fucked his brother. Like a savage animal.

And the look in Leona's eyes... Nobody could ever live up to that sort of all-consuming passion. Vil could only dream of experiencing something that intense. There was no way Leona would want him in comparison to that...

Clawing at his belly, Vil fervently wished he could banish the throbbing ache between his thighs. His heart was breaking. The last thing he needed was to be horny about it. Some trespasses could not be forgiven in the name of desire.

Shaking, Vil stood, resolutely. He'd already lost the narcissus he'd gathered in his flight. The equipment he'd held onto fell from his listless fingers as he walked slowly and proudly out of the greenhouse, returning to his dorm. He would not be found huddling in the dirt like some filthy animal, not him. He would not be humiliated. He would not bow his head in defeat.

He would follow his regular bed-time routine, perhaps with an extended bout of masturbation...and he would get a good night's rest. In the morning, he would consider his revenge.

*

Ravaged beyond rescue, Leona heaved in a breath as Farena purged himself with a final roar, seeming to diminish as he spent himself and slipped from Leona's raw cavern, leaving his wrecked little brother empty and bone-weary. For some time, the dregs of sexual fever battled with the sweat cooling on Leona's skin as he lay insensate, unable to manage anything more than expelling one breath and dragging in the next.

When he blinked open dry eyes, bleary with exhaustion, all he could see was a small bundle of flowers, lying on the spot in which Vil had stood. They looked familiar. Lilia had shown them to him in a book. They were Narcissus, the same flowers used in the hex placed on Malleus...

No, that couldn't be. There were a lot of similar flowers. What would Vil want with an ominous weed like that...? Then again, what wouldn't Vil want with a flower that could be poisonous to humans, and even to some other races at the right dosages? He did have an affinity for the poisoner's art.

Gathering his strength and lifting himself up, Leona made an effort to open a dialogue. "Farena..." But when he turned his head... There was no one there. Farena was gone, vanished, without a trace. If the evidence wasn't painted over every inch of Leona's body, he might have doubted that his brother had ever been there at all.

He never noticed the small clay figure creating a bubble in the brook from its new bed under the surface. Instead, he lay back down, not caring who found him or what state he was in. Nothing could be worse than the wounded look on Vil's face.

Luckily, it was Lilia who next came along, unable to move forward without the herbs he'd sent Leona to gather, and frustrated enough to go searching himself. Leona couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. Sure, Farena had gone at it for longer than ever before, and Leona had been pushed to the brink of sanity by the ongoing ravages of pleasure...but there were worse ways to wind up face-down in the mud, covered in bloody rents and bite marks. It wasn't a big deal. It was Vil who needed a hug.

*

Night had set her claws into the edges of the world and folded tightly about its people by the hour when Dire Crowley received an unsolicited guest in his office. There were very few living mages who could enter without his permission, and fewer still who could do so undetected. The tall, thin figure with long, dark hair bound into a loose tail accented by a streak of pink was one such figure, and it was not too great a surprise to see him, for he dwelled in the academy at present.

"Hello, Crowley. You look surprised. It's all right. I'm only here to provide fair warning...that I'm going to murder Divus Crewel. Not yet. Not right away... Once the ritual is complete, perhaps. But I trust that you will forgive me." Vanrouge's smile was thin and brittle, and it struck the Headmaster with a deep sense of dread. He began to circle the chair in which Dire sat, nervously calculating his chances if he so much as asked why. "I don't give a damn what that pervert does to any other, but to make a move against my sweet Malleus...?" Long, thin fingers, with overgrown nails dragged their way across his cheek. "Oh, this is a mistake he shall live only long enough to rue."

That was all Vanrouge had to say, and it made little sense to Dire yet. The vampire exited with a slow, menacing swagger that communicated how dangerous he was feeling at present—as if his true and ancient form were not warning enough. Just what had Divus gone and done...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! A lot went down, yet again, and still the scene I've been working toward got bumped back even further...but maybe next chapter. Haha.
> 
> Thoughts on Lilia? Homunculi? Ooh, but I had fun with this.


	8. Seed of the Incubus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY

The single-minded drive to complete the presentation he and Vil would give the following week was a convenient distraction from all that Malleus did not want to contemplate...but it was also a promise. It was a promise that Vil would be well, and that they would give this presentation together, and all would be as it was before the catastrophic events that threatened to tear Malleus' mind apart. The sooner the presentation was complete, the sooner Vil would be recovered, or so it seemed to Malleus' somewhat addled brain.

Only once did his mind stray from his task once he had begun to make headway. His neck had itched, and he had scratched it...only to discover a healing bite mark with punctures made by carnivorous fangs, caused to bleed anew by his scratching. He felt around the wound, and once again became aware of other aches about his body.

He should heal them. It was no obstacle to a mage of his caliber. And yet, he did not.

Running his fingers down his neck and across his chest, Malleus closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember... Only the warmth and passion. Only those alluring green eyes, dark with lust, and the touch and feel of Leona all over his body...and inside of it.

His neck tilting back, Malleus lightly rubbed his covered crotch. It was strange... Both wonderful and terrifying... To think that Leona Kingscholar, of all men, had been his first. He wished the circumstances were different, but he found he did not regret the who, or even the how. Only the why, the where, and the when. If he blocked out those latter categories, the memory was beyond pleasant... It was tantalizing.

Malleus was aware of a certain feral chemistry between he and the lion prince. He had always dismissed it as animal instinct devoid of sense or logic. He and Leona had never been compatible in any other ways. They were civil, and held a somewhat grudging respect for one another...but there was a tension there that Malleus suspected bordered on hatred. There was such an intense look in Leona's eyes sometimes that Malleus expected the lion to pounce upon him with a rake of claws at any moment.

Had he possibly misread that tension? Was he so naive as to mistake lust for hatred...? Surely not. If Leona held such an interest in him, he surely would have said. Instead, the lion constantly ribbed and insulted him, as if trying to pick a fight that Malleus was not willing to engage in. He resented that treatment. He and Leona might have been fast friends under different circumstances.

What were they now? How did they move forward after...? Leona must loathe him, for instigating such a thing.

As his thoughts turned sour, Malleus snatched his hand away from his erection, other memories beginning to clamor at the gates. When he began to pay attention, he could see the storm swirling all around him. All this time, he had been sitting obliviously in its eye, blinded by his dedication to completing the presentation, but the storm had no more blown over than had Malleus' grief at harming Vil... With a forced effort, he tucked all of those devastating memories away again, and lost himself once more in the work that must be done so that Vil would have no more cause to regret being partnered with him.

Thus, he worked like a man possessed... At least, until he reached a point where his previous research stalled. He knew the book he needed, but he had not checked it out. It was in the library.

The library was outside of his room...but he had to be brave. It was important. He was so close to finishing the presentation.

Once Malleus left his room, however, roaming the outdoor halls of Nightraven and skittering around the few people he came across...the dis-associative fog seemed to dissipate, and he began to recall more and more of the circumstances that had brought him to this feverish obsession with a presentation that hardly mattered in the face of all he had done. He also began to realize, little by little, how ridiculous it was to think Vil would be in any shape to give a presentation any time soon, let alone that he would want to go anywhere near Malleus after what had happened.

The winds began to whip at him, the clouds to flash and rumble... The eye of the storm grew smaller and smaller, focusing in on him until Malleus crouched down, cowering with the last of his dwindling reason. He didn't want to give in to the darkness. He didn't want to lose himself again.

He did, though, in a very literal sense. As if time was stalling around him, doing its work in fits and starts, part of the day passed Malleus by, until he found himself standing on a balcony, staring out at the horizon as the last rays of the sun slipped from view. He couldn't quite understand how the time had gone by. Had he been standing there, all afternoon long? He couldn't seem to remember.

It was dark, already... So dark. So much darker than the mild evening hours after sunset. Just how late was it? He didn't know. 

He had to move. If he stayed where he was, he might just get lost in time forever, contemplating deep, dark things that stole the mind away.

With determined focus, Malleus clung to the shreds of his sanity and re-calibrated his sights, returning to the lab to which he had so recently laid waste. He was hoping to gain some clarity, or at least a little insight... If he saw the evidence of his destruction, perhaps it would temper him. Perhaps he would find some clue that would absolve him from the worst of his sins, or... 

When he arrived, he found the alchemical lab unblemished. Pristine. 

It was also occupied.

Blood rushing to his head with a sense of dejavu, Malleus stalked forward, sending up sporadic wards like a bastion of thorns, all about the room―walls, floor, door, and ceiling instantly overrun.

"Sit, boy. Stay."

Malleus sat heavily down upon his knees, roaring as they slammed into stone. He felt the darkness close over him and then rise up through him with sickening velocity...and then freeze―trapped just beneath the surface.

"Uh-uh... Not this time, dragonling," Crewel murmured, gliding toward Malleus and reaching out an elegant hand, fingers extended to the tips. He grabbed hold of a horn and yanked Malleus' head toward him as he bent down, his lips brushing the hair that hung like a curtain of night over Malleus' ear. "You've been a bad boy."

Bound by a power the likes of which he had never felt before, Malleus was instantly flooded with sheer panic, the dark storm temporarily buried under the overwhelming force of unaccustomed fear.

"What did you do to me!?" he gasped, his jaw stiff and barely responding to his will. He stared wide-eyed past Crewel's shoulder, unable to move.

"Wrong question, dragonling. What you ought to ask is what I'm going to do to you."

The cruel chuckle that bubbled forth from the professor lined Malleus' belly with dread. There was a constant pressure near the base of his horn that was beginning to hurt, and the pain heightened as Crewel firmed his grip, pulling. Malleus was incapable of resistance, but Crewel wasn't tugging his head forward, just applying force to the solid horn rooted in Malleus' skull, as if trying to snap it.

"What I wouldn't give for a pair of these to make coat fasteners of," Crewel hissed, his voice dripping with greed.

Growling, Malleus tried to pull away, but Crewel's magic had him bound tight. It was of a completely different quality to the wards he had walked right through before―more potent... Fresh.

"This is for tempting my porcelain puppy," Crewel snarled at him, removing a glove and striking Malleus hard across the face with the back of his bare hand.

Malleus' head reeled. 

"And this is for interrupting his discipline." 

Crewel let go of Malleus' horn, instead prying his jaws open like one might do a snarling canine with a bone. Then, he was loosening his belt with his ungloved hand, even as Malleus tried to bite down on the leather-clad fingers in his mouth. He couldn't quite angle his jaw to get purchase.

"As for killing me―twice―well... We'll get to that."

Whatever that meant, it was no mystery what Crewel planned. As he freed his hardening cock from its confines and stroked it, he continued to keep Malleus' jaw locked with his prying fingers. 

"No biting," he hummed, sidling closer.

On one hand, Malleus was repulsed by the very notion of any man forcing himself on another in any way. On the other hand, he found he had not quite recovered from the recollection of being fucked and ravished by Leona. He was half-hard, his blood now hot with anger, his senses heightened. Crewel was an erotic man, and that took its toll. The scent of him, the look... There was a part of Malleus already envisioning the taste and feel of that length, and he loathed himself for it.

In fact, a large part of him wanted what was coming. He almost hoped to be so crudely violated. He deserved it. What he'd done to Vil, to Leona...even to Crewel... It was malicious. Evil. Folly. Unforgivable.

However, before Crewel could carry through with the threat of stuffing Malleus' throat full of his revenge, a fluttering sound and a dark grunt of disapproval accompanied the arrival of a new presence at the professor's side, bypassing Malleus' thicket of wards entirely. Crewel's fingers still crammed in his mouth, Malleus rolled his eyes upward to make out the headmaster himself.

"That's quite enough for today. You won't be laying another hand on the Prince of Thorns, Professor Crewel," said Headmaster Crowley, amiably, as if the professor had not been caught red-handed on the verge of sexually assaulting a student―and a prince, besides. "And seeing as how I am so kind, I will see him safely to his dorm... And then, you and I shall...discuss...Professor."

Crewel's eyes were lit with rage, which he visibly struggled to master. When he spoke, it was in clipped, gritted tones that dripped with bitterness.

"Headmaster, with all due respect, you really ought to pay closer attention." He cleared his throat, banishing a little of the malevolence by the time he next spoke. "Scry a little and you'll feel it," he prompted, easing his fingers free from Malleus' mouth.

Crowley seemed skeptical, but he somehow gave the professor the benefit of the doubt, wiggling his fingers in a manner unfamiliar even to Malleus. "Hmmm? What's this?" The trust between Crowley and his pet professor seemed to have paid off on Crewel's part. Whatever Crowley found, his demeanor changed instantly. "My, Prince Draconia, you are in quite dangerous shape, aren't you?" The threatening aura of just moments before was gone, entirely, as if whatever the headmaster had found absolved Crewel completely.

"As you can see," Crewel reasoned, "I was simply trying to help him drain some of that dark magic running rampant in his reservoir. You know a thing or two about what that takes... Don't you, Crowley?"

"Yes. Well. Be that as it may, sex magic is not our first resort when working with students, Divus," Crowley countered, his body language uncomfortable enough despite the mask hiding his expression.

"As it happens, Prince Draconia already overblotted yesterday, while you were off doing the Seven only know what... Clearly, someone has taken the edge off already, but this kind of letting requires a practiced hand," Crewel explained, his dick hanging out not making the slightest impact on his suave, matter-of-fact facade. "Leave this to me, won't you?"

"No... No, I should think not, Divus... But if things are as dire as you say, you are correct. Drastic action must be taken and it would not do for just anyone to fumble their way through the rituals... Yes... They might end up taking warped and wild magic unto themselves." The headmaster went silent for a moment, deep in thought. "Perhaps...this could be a learning experience for a young protege... Say, that Vil Schoenheit who exhibits such skill in the more delicate dark arts... Indeed, if you were to oversee such an undertaking, I think that just might do, don't you?"

"Yes...Headmaster." Crewel was almost purring, which was off-putting, considering his proclivity for the canine kind. "I quite agree. That would be...eminently appropriate."

"Excellent. It's settled, then. For the time being, I shall escort Mr. Draconia here to a safer location, where he will be of no harm to himself or to others, to wait until preparations have been made," said Crowley.

"Thank you, Headmaster. Whatever would I have done if you hadn't come along?"

The last was directed at Malleus with a malicious little smile that sent chills through the bound prince. The next thing Malleus knew, he had freedom of movement again, and Crowley was sweeping him out of the classroom, full of chatter and cheer, Malleus' wards crashing down around them as they passed. Meanwhile, his jaw ached ferociously, and he kept feeling a phantom gagging sensation, as if he had in fact been forced to choke on Divus Crewel's manhood... It was not a pleasant concept.

And yet... It was not quite an unpleasant one, either, if the dormant tingle in Malleus' loins was anything to go by. Divus Crewel was an exquisitely beautiful man, with a sense of elegance and an innate dark charm that captivated any room he walked into. His magnetism was different, and yet alike to Vil's, but his beauty was a more refined, mature beauty, while Vil's was fresh and intriguing...

Sex magic. Vil.

An almost debilitating shudder raced through Malleus. He very nearly fell to his knees with sheer want. He had never desired anything in his life half so much as he now ached for Vil Schonheit. Wanting Vil was not exactly new, so much as he was now uncomfortably aware of the true nature of his interest in the Pomfiore prefect. Perhaps he should thank Divus Crewel for this stunning opportunity. As his eyes fluttered closed, the mere caress of Malleus' lashes caused under tremble down his core.

Gritting his teeth, Malleus reminded himself that Vil had every reason to despise him, and that he himself had every reason and more to murder Divus Crewel in cold blood. Maybe then he could fuck the deviant professor's corpse if he still had a taste for it...

"Don't worry, Prince Draconia. We'll have you sorted in no time. I daresay it won't be an entirely unpleasant sort of treatment! Ah, but certain protocols must be observed first, so you'll have to wait here in my private study for a time. Fear not. It's nigh on impenetrable, and you'll have good food, comfortable furnishings, and maybe even some wine, eh? You're of an age, I'm sure. Just relax and let me take care of the arrangements. It won't be long before you're as cheerful and carefree as you ever were!"

For some reason, none of Crowley's reassurances served to settle the turmoil building in Malleus. All he could think about was goring Divus Crewel with his horns and then defiling the brand new orifices until the lustful rage in him was quenched in blood. He may yearn for Vil now that the abyss of desire was beneath him, but it could only be a cruel, heartless task for the beautiful model Malleus had almost destroyed only days ago.

Only when the headmaster made for the door, leaving Malleus seated on a plush couch, littered with pillows that reeked of the very professor who dominated his senses, did he respond to his surroundings in the least. Out of his mind with malice, Malleus launched himself at Crowley, baring his teeth to bite and raising his arm as if to bring down his nails to rake through flesh...but he came up against an invisible barrier of electric force that caught him up in the air as volts burned through him. He roared until the ravishing pain subsided and he crashed to the ground, twitching and curling in on himself.

Perhaps, in his right mind, Malleus might be a match for Dire Crowley. As he was at present, he didn't stand a chance.

"My, my... It's worse than I thought."

The arms that came around Malleus, lifting him, were surprisingly comforting, and the soft embrace of the couch was a welcome contrast to the cold, hard stone floor. Crowley's talon-tipped fingers tapped his forehead, and then everything seemed to melt into a haze that obscured the pain and anger, turning darkness to a murky twilight that swirled about him in a strange fog. It was like sleep, and yet unlike it, for Malleus was conscious and present, but unable to form a coherent thought for the life of him. Thus, he drifted, spared the torment of awareness for an indeterminate length of time.

*

Vil woke, feeling like himself for the first time in days. He tested the waters with some stretches and resistance exercises, and felt much stronger. His complexion looked healthier, and his skin was clear and smooth. Cheerfully, he applied some light make up, knowing he would need to reapply once his business was through, anyway.

Business was a polite way to put it. Though he awoke refreshed, Vil had been plagued by erotic dreams all night long, and he was in a state of sexual frustration the likes of which he had never known. He'd been forced to watch as Leona pounded Malleus, and then, he had been witness to the Kingscholar brothers' unholy exhibition. Though Divus had pampered him with languorous service the previous day, it wasn't enough. It wasn't what Vil needed to clear the fog of lust from his mind and body.

When he knocked on Divus' door, clad in ripped, denim jeans and an artfully torn, oversized, beige sweater top, he posed in the doorway as it opened, simply giving his lover a look that conveyed exactly what he expected to be done. Divus, wearing nothing more than a fur bathrobe in his favorite, spotted monochrome pattern, posed against the opposite frame, admiring him for a short while.

Vil enjoyed being admired, but he had designs that involved a great deal more action, so he stepped into the room, pulling Divus after him. He made his familiar way to the bed, stripping off his sweater as he went, and then turned to divest Divus of his robe, backing up to the edge of the mattress. He fell onto it, pulling Divus on top of him with a mirthful lust that carried him through to the first of two consecutive completions under the heaving weight of his lover's body. 

As he came down from that first orgasm, Vil became more keenly aware of his body, and of all the minute details of Divus' touch, scent, taste, and motion. After Divus paused to brush some diluted potion he'd conjured over Vil's lips, the student began to put his own stamp upon his professor, first with nudges and pulls, and then with scratches and bites, digging his keenly buffed nail tips into the supple flesh of a sensually rounded hip or sinking his teeth into the skin that sat along the collar bone and pulled as he arched his neck.

"Stay!"

With that growl, Divus took Vil's hands and pinned them roughly to the bed overhead, his thumbs pressing painfully into the wrists while his hips thrust in a heavy, rhythmic staccato, nailing Vil to the bed like a thief to a cross. Something new happened, then. It was like a heat began to build in Vil's loins that eclipsed any kind of sexual energy he'd ever felt before. It spread through his thighs and down his legs to his toes and then worked up to his waist, and he began to tingle with a deep need. Divus' teeth were bared in a sadistic grin that told Vil his lover was behind the swell of heat and sensation. His wrists were released, and for a moment, he thought he felt the magical pressure recede, but then Divus' hands came down on his throat and the power rose up throughout his body, making Vil see red as he fought for air at first. Unable to get enough, he held his breath instead as a mind blowing ecstasy clamored at the gates and then tore through him, nearly rendering him unconscious. 

When they lay, embraced, gazing up at the canopy, idly tracing patterns on each others' skin and musing poetically on various landmarks of the flesh, Vil felt a sense of relief. He was nowhere near free of the images burned into his memory, and he still buzzed with sexual tension, but it was comforting to regain his confidence in himself, and in the bedroom.

"You seem quite recovered," Divus murmured, drawing a line from Vil's groin up to his belly button and then trailing his fingers back down again.

"I feel good," Vil told him. "I don't know what you just did to me...but I needed that."

Nibbling playfully at his ear, Divus murmured, "Magic."

Vil mused on that, thinking he understood what kind of magic Divus referred to, but he was not well-versed enough in the subject to comment. "Why?" he finally asked, his voice quiet and contemplative.

Divus rose up on one hip, placing his hand on Vil's chest and gazing down at him with a surprisingly serious demeanor. He held his tongue for an extended moment, peaking Vil's curiosity even further.

"Several reasons..." he finally said. "One, because I knew you would enjoy it. Two, because I thought you might benefit from it. Three..." Vil wriggled a little, discomforted by the intensity of Divus' gaze. "Because I wanted you to experience it for yourself before deciding whether or not you are willing to conduct a ritual using such magic."

"What are you talking about?" Vil asked, feeling slightly nervous. Divus never acted like this after sex—so grave and serious. He was wearing the face of a professor, not a lover.

"Malleus Draconia came after me last night," Divus announced, his tone soft, but hardly peaceful.

"You swore to me you would leave him alone!" Vil cried, trying to sit up, but held down by Divus' hand.

"As I said... He came to me, not the other way round," Divus asserted. A moment later, the professor sat right up, pulling completely put of Vil's reach, brushing his hair off his forehead, and looking a little uncomfortable himself. "He's out of control...but you were right, pet." Putting aside his pride was not something that came easily to Divus, and it gave Vil pause to hear him admit he was mistaken. "It's not his fault. He's in the grip of a hex that can only be removed from him through a certain type of ritual."

"Sex magic," Vil clarified, putting a name to what Divus had done to him.

"As it is commonly called, yes," Divus confirmed.

Vil did sit up then, hooking his arms about his knees a little defensively as he glared at the man who seemed to be playing games with him. "What's that got to do with me? You can't mean you want me to—"

"It was the Headmaster's suggestion," said the professor, woodenly. "It must be done, like it or not, but Crowley does not approve of such magic being performed between a professor and a student."

"What, so it's better for another student to do it!?" Vil cried, incredulous. His anger was a result of reading between the lines and wondering exactly how the topic had come up for Crowley to express such disapproval.

"According to Crowley," Divus said tightly, "Yes. Specifically, you."

Which meant that Divus did not agree, but had been put in his place.

"But isn't it dangerous?" Vil asked, recalling the stern cautions that had taken up the brunt of the topic when learning the outlines of different types of magic in his first year.

"That's why the headmaster suggested you, the most accomplished and capable of students on campus—bar the subject—and the most...apt for the task," Divus explained, dodging the issues of exactly how dangerous it could be and what determined that Vil was so apt, as he put it.

"And you're perfectly fine with this," Vil said bitterly.

There were a lot of other questions he could be asking, but it suddenly mattered to him more than it had ever done that Divus seemed so unfazed by the prospect of Vil sharing his body with someone else. After all they had been to one another for so long, did he truly not care at all? He'd seemed so possessive when it came to Leona, but was that just wishful thinking on Vil's part? Did he actually want Crewel to be jealous? Did he actually want more than a mentorship with beneftis...?

"I would never stand between you and the opportunity to learn and grow into your magic, pet," Divus murmured. "This is a rare and valuable opportunity for a mage your age."

"Don't talk about it like it's just another spell, Divus," Vil growled, hurting more than he had thought possible. "You're telling me to have sex with Malleus."

"I'm not telling you to do anything," snapped the professor. "The choice is yours. Although, as I said, the headmaster did recommend you for the task, and I agree. It can only be you."

"But Malleus..." was the man Leona loved, and may very well be interested in Vil, in turn, to put it mildly. What was more... When Vil pictured Malleus, he saw either the lust-mad devil writhing under Leona...or the ferocious draconic eyes burning in the deep sockets of a terrifying, reptilian skull... Razor-sharp talons, vicious fire, and a malignant poison that caused Vil's whole body to cringe at the mere thought...

"But Malleus, indeed," said Divus, oblivious to the haunted distraction that had overcome Vil. "If it were anyone else, I would not be so concerned, but Malleus Draconia is a mage of exceptional raw power caught in the throes of dangerous dark magic." Divus was already on his feet, pacing in agitation as he ranted. "You would need to be flawless in your preparation and focus, or the both of you could be killed... And as if that weren't bad enough, he is admittedly beautiful. I confess myself jealous."

"Of who?" Vil griped, shaking off the pall of fear and focusing on his anger at the man who had dominated Vil for years, who actually had the gall to suggest he engage in intercourse with someone else. "No. Don't answer that. I might just kill him myself."

"Now, now..." Divus paused, gripping the bed post and leaning over the mattress a little, as if freshly tempted to press Vil down into its embrace. "I know you, love. You can't tell me your body, at least, is not keen to try..."

Perhaps, but it wasn't Vil's body that was tempted, nor his heart, so much as his mind. Leona had hurt him deeply, first with his words, then with his actions. After Vil had opened himself up, completely vulnerable at Leona's mercy, to witness something so depraved and shocking, so devastating... 

Malleus was a chance for revenge. To have Malleus Draconia for himself would be to take something Leona coveted, to wound him as Vil had been wounded, not once, but twice. Besides, it would ultimately be for a good cause. Unlike Leona, Malleus was supposedly innocent in all this. Whatever hex he was under must have been behind his actions the other day, even that rabid rutting Vil had been audience to. As frightful as the ordeal had been for Vil, it wasn't Malleus' fault and he didn't deserve to suffer for it... But to have Malleus in his power would be a way to regain some of his own confidence. Though his instincts warred with logic, and his emotions clouded the matter, Vil knew he would not shy away from the task.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" he asked quietly, feeling a stillness in himself as he awaited the answer.

"I really think this—you—are the best acceptable chance Prince Draconia has of recovery," Divus responded diplomatically.

Vil looked away, imagining the scene in his mind and feeling his body respond. "Then I have to do it...don't I?" he reasoned, pushing down the motives of jealousy and revenge. He told himself they were secondary to the good deed he would be performing. "Anyway," he said, glancing coyly back up at Divus, "If it's anything like what you just did to me, it can't be all that bad."

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, Divus didn't seem as eager to re-engage in their carnal activities as Vil would have expected. There was still an aura of business about him.

"What have you learned of sexual magic in your basic theory lessons?" questioned the professor.

Vil cast his mind back, but found little of substance with which to answer. "Not much, only that it is a manipulation of the chakras within a being, particularly focusing on the root chakra, the muladhara."

"Quite right," Divus confirmed, though a wicked little twist at the corner of his lips preceded his next question. "And what have you learned in your own, private study on the matter?"

"Honestly, not a lot," Vil confessed. "I did do some more research on the seven chakras, though."

Nodding, Divus folded his hands in his lap, sliding into the posture of a lecture. "You may have noticed that our seven dormitories are signified by colors which could be grouped to overlap with the seven chakras. Why do you think that is?"

Vil frowned. "Surely the division of dorms is not based on one's chakral affiliation and the related color arrays... How would someone like Riddle Rosehearts end up in Heartslabyul, let alone its dorm head?"

Divus nodded concisely in acknowledgement of the question. "Consider Mr. Rosehearts' unique magic; a magic which locks away that which yearns to be free, that which exceeds the boundaries which should hold it captive. I would say that Mr. Rosehearts is powerfully influenced by his root chakra, and that his unique magic has developed in reflection of his struggle to contain it. Of course, each person's connection with their chakra develops and manifests in different ways. That is why, I presume, Prince Draconia was so vulnerable to being hexed. He is of the heart chakra, anahata; a chakra that thrives on deep connection and emotion. Yet, he has become quite isolated as a result of his heritage. It is this that opens his heart and the chakra with which he most identifies to attack." 

There was a lot to unpack in all of that. What Divus implied was that the chakras were not so straightforward, and that each person resonated differently, even with the core concepts of each of the seven chakras. It opened up a great deal more questions than it answered.

"Magic is no mumbo jumbo, no work of the gods," Divus continued. "Science has taught us a great deal of how magical forces are enacted. And what does science teach us about hexes?"

"That they're perversions of energy... Like chakras," Vil answered gravely, as though he were seated behind a desk in a classroom, not naked and soiled with sweat and semen, seated atop his professor's bed, rank with sex and gradually growing aroused again for no apparent reason.

"Precisely. So, to recap for the purposes of moving ahead with our lesson..." All of a sudden, Divus' manner changed with only a slight smirk for warning. He lunged forward, pulling Vil's bent knees straight and looming up over him. Then, just as the heat swelled between them; "Roll over." Vil was ruthlessly flipped onto his stomach. "Muladhara, the root chakra," he said, bending down over Vil's backside and licking up some of the mess he'd made, "is a chakra of grounded energies and sexual connotations, often associated with students assigned to Heartslabyul."

Stifling a light moan, Vil shook his head, still unable to comprehend it. "But that chakra implies grounding, and... And..."

"Maternal instinct. Sexual focus... Yes." As he spoke, Divus punctuated his words with licks and nibbles to the sensitive flesh of the buttocks and upper thigh. "Characteristics you might recognize in students such as Trey Clover, or Cater Diamond. In some of those first years, too, there are strong hints and glimmers of such affinities. Next..." The professor kissed a short trail up between Vil's hip bones. "We have svadisthana, the sacral chakra. This chakra resides in the abdomen and is also affiliated with sexual energies, as well as other pleasures like food and creative pursuits," he said. All the while, he was rubbing his fingers through Vil's crack, teasing Vil's opening as well as his scrotum.

"That, I can believe," Vil gasped. "Jamil and Kalim of Scarabia are the definition of the sacral chakra."

"Which..." Vil shuddered as Divus nipped at a spot on his spine that lined up with his naval, "...brings us to manipura, the chakra of the solar plexus. Self esteem, confidence, and everything culinary not covered by svadisthana."

"In essence, Leona Kingscholar and Ruggie Bucchi in a nutshell," Vil moaned, arching his hips as Divus wormed a pair of fingers inside of him. "I'm beginning to see the pattern... You already established through Malleus that Diasomnia are affiliated with... With anahata..." Divus' other hand sought its way up Vil's torso and pinched his left nipple. "The h-heart chakra. What was...? What was the throat chakra, again?" He didn't want to think of Malleus right now.

"Visuddha..." A gentle kiss at the base of Vil's neck was swiftly followed by a strike of the fingers within him to a throbbing bundle of nerves that ensured he was fully hard again. "An interesting one," Divus murmured, treating Vil like putty in his hands even as he spoke the facts with scholastic aplomb. "When one thinks of Ignihyde, one does not easily connect the dots with the theme of communication via the throat." Another thrust made Vil whimper, and then a harder bite caused him to cry out, ramming his hips into the mattress. "And yet, there are many ways to communicate, beyond verbal contact. Machines and computers are marvels of communication, are they not?" Divus' fingers slipped gently out and traced a dizzy pattern up Vil's spine. "An intricate net of pathways and connections across which instructions and data are communicated to achieve an infinite variety of purposes."

Vil privately mourned the loss of those fingers working his prostate, but he hoped they would be replaced, soon. "I think I read somewhere that...the third eye chakra has...an unexpected connection to wealth, but I never... I never quite understood that..."

Divus hummed, situating his body above Vil's, his manhood resting between trembling thighs. "Ajna, the third eye, or brow chakra, is the seat of intuition and imagination." Pulling Vil's head up painfully by a tuft of hair at the back of his skull that lined up with his brow, Divus rolled his hips, his length dragging heavily up between the cheeks of Vil's quivering ass. "One who can tap these qualities will have no end of opportunities to accrue material wealth." Vil's head and neck hurt with the tension of the hold on his hair, but Divus gently kissed his exposed brow. "Need I point out Mr. Ashengrotto as a prime example?" Even as he spoke of Azul, the professor began to feed his length into Vil once more. "It is the imaginative and intuitive uses to which he formulates and applies his contracts that speak to his success in business." It was hard to pay attention to Azul's purported virtues with Divus' cock slowly but surely filling him, tapping every fiber of pleasure to be found at Vil's core while his scalp screamed in pain and his neck stretched awkwardly. "The ability to understand the motivations of others is key in such pursuits." Divus let go, taking hold of Vil's squirming hip, instead.

Vil took a deep breath as soon as his head was released. "And Pomfiore..." His nose pressed into the sheets while his fists bunched in them.

"Sahasrara."

Divus thrust once.

"The crown chakra," Vil gasped.

"It is a chakra in tune with all other chakras," Divus murmured, stilling his hips and letting his hands wander. "Flowing through every organ in the body. Its affiliations are in awareness and intelligence, but to be of this chakra indicates that one is in touch with the full scope of one's possibilities." Fully submerged within Vil, Divus bent forward to press his lips to the crown of his lover's head, forcing Vil's body to arch awkwardly. "It is for this reason that you are even more suited to performing the intricacies of sex magic than one who lives in the root chakra, such as myself," Divus said, running his hand up to Vil's throat again and holding it lightly as he began to rock. "That said, we will need to bring you into deeper communion with your root chakra in particular, as it will be imperative to this ritual."

"Go on," Vil groaned, his body twitching and aching as Divus' grip tightened on his throat and the man began to move more frequently within him.

"The blockage of Malleus' anahata chakra does not begin in the heart, it begins in his root, and it infects all of his chakras to some degree, bloating them with darkness and cutting him off from his core elements. You will need to guide him, to bring him down to the root, to bring him in tune with his own root to clear it." With persistent drive, Divus' hips thrust with every slight pause in his speech, snapping deep into Vil and filling him with a tightly packed, frantic energy, buzzing with sexual heat and tension. He went on. "This will take some time, I am sure. Then, one by one, you will need to guide him up through his chakras... Root, sacral, solar plexus, and eventually to the heart." Bending his head, Divus kissed Vil's back, his lips caressing the spot behind Vil's heart as the power he fed into Vil paused there, swelling like the music of a rising orchestra. "Here, too, you will need to nurture and cultivate the chakra which should burn most brightly in him before rising through the throat, third eye, and finally up to the crown." Compared with the smooth ease so far despite his exertions, Divus was grunting now, his breath coming more raggedly, his lecture a sheer feat of will. "When all of his chakras are open, and he is fully attuned once more, the ritual will be complete. You will need to guide him, as I have guided you, but the challenge will be far greater, like paddling against vicious rapids."

By the time Divus was finished speaking, Vil felt as if his soul had been dragged up through his spine and was trying to burst free of his head. He was half-blinded, his ears ringing slightly, and his lungs were burning. And then, it was as if Divus let go—both in the sense of reaching his own orgasm and releasing his hold on Vil's throat, along with his various senses. That release triggered a powerful climax in Vil that left him gasping for breath, almost suffocating himself in the sheets until he came down from the high.

Simultaneously euphoric and exhausted, he rolled onto his back, focusing on hauling air into his abused lungs for a time as the sweat cooled on his skin.

"Am I to understand," he huffed, "That what you just described...essentially adds up...to seven orgasms?"

"If only it were that simple," came a breathy voice at his ear, sluggish with satiation. "Seven blockages fully cleared...may take a great many more orgasms than that," said Divus, trailing his fingers over the skin of Vil's belly again, which clenched in trepidation.

"That's absurd. Nobody can... I know I can't..." Vil's cheeks flamed as he remembered the distraught enslavement to fulfillment inscribed across Leona's features as he desperately reached out, as if already wrung dry but still slave to his passions...

"Not under normal circumstances, no," Divus agreed. "However, the rituals of sexual magic and the opening of the chakras can make such things quite possible...with the aid of certain substances to encourage the body to match the spirit, of course."

"Like what, seed of the incubus?" Vil almost snorted, modifying it to a more dignified chuckle instead, as he finally rolled his head to the side and drank in the sight of a thoroughly disheveled, sex-soaked Divus Crewel.

"Exactly like seed of the incubus," Divus drawled, and though he wore an expression somewhat akin to a leer, his gaze was steady and laden with promise.

Vil's cheeks drained of color. "You can't be serious. That's too potent..." Just the thought of it made his knees curl toward his pelvis... But then he remembered that he had already undergone three orgasms in a short span of time, at least two aided by some form of magical manipulation...and a weak dilution of some sort that Divus had spread on his lips. "No, no I can see how it might work in conjunction with the release of the chakras...but otherwise, it would be sheer torture."

"Quite." Divus seemed disturbingly pleased by this fact. "Which is why it will be upon you to help Malleus Draconia clear his chakras to ensure that there is no blockage, and that the aphrodisiac can be cleared from his system without compromise. The alternative is not pretty."

Divus was back in lecture mode, but Vil wasn't ready to be the model student just yet. He reached for his lover, needing physical reassurance along with the verbal solace he sought.

"What if I can't do it?" he asked, a wobble in his voice he wished he could ascribe to weariness. "What if I make a mistake?"

"I'll be there to guide you through it," Divus promised, brushing Vil's hair back from his face and patting it neatly into place.

"You mean, you'll be watching?" Vil asked, a little relieved at first, before he started to wonder...

"This kind of ritual must never go unsupervised, students or no."

For all that the tone was matter of fact, there was something about Divus' manner that made Vil feel wary. A sneaking suspicious crept up in him that he could not silence.

"You didn't do this, did you...?" he asked, hesitantly. "Tell me you didn't hex Malleus."

"Well that's a choice accusation," Divus bristled. "If I had, do you really think I would be training you to unwork my own hex at great risk?"

It was a fair point, and Vil's skepticism was mostly appeased, but not fully enough to prevent him from one more teasing query.

"Are you sure you didn't orchestrate this just for the fun of getting to watch me bone Malleus?"

"Watch your tongue," Divus growled, catching Vil's hip in his hand and pulling him closer. "That's a filthy term."

"Why?" Vil asked, his voice merely a whisper as he felt the heat of Divus up against him once more. Exhausted as he was, his body never failed to react, and the drug he'd been fed, however diluted, was wickedly potent. "When you do me, you're like a dog with a bone, looking for somewhere to bury it...nice and deep..."

For a moment, Divus growled, low and deep, and he seemed on the verge of ravishing Vil halfway to heaven, but then he shoved Vil back a little so that his pupil could clearly see the anger on his face. 

"This isn't for fun, Vil. The last thing I want is to watch you writhe in pleasure with someone else, at your own peril."

That sentiment was pleasing enough that Vil tried his luck, hooking his leg over Divus' and running his foot up the back of one strong, milky thigh. "I'd watch you...with Malleus... I think I'd like that."

"If you don't take this seriously, you may just get your chance," Divus snapped, not moving a muscle. "Even Crowley would rather put a student in my bed than a prince in the ground. This is no game, Vil. Sexual magic is lethally dangerous and can spin out of control if you do not remain focused."

"Then you'd better get this out of my system," Vil groaned, admitting to himself that he had a problem. "Because I can't," he said. "Focus," he clarified. 

Closing his eyes, he saw Leona getting buggered into the ground again and again, or Malleus rocking beside him on the bed... If he went into a sexual ritual with all of that still churning in his mind, he was going to get them both killed. Even diluted, the seed of the incubus was alive in him, lighting his body on fire and daring him to try and quench it. Taking a moment to center himself with all of the considerable discipline he could avail himself of, Vil opened his eyes and focused on the man before him. "Teach me, Professor. Teach me how to open you up."

"As studious as you are, I've never seen you quite this keen for a lesson before," Divus responded dryly. "In that case, let me walk you through the simpler parts of the process."

"Are you saying I get to be on top?" Vil asked, smiling wickedly.

"Not necessarily...but if it would help you visualize, perhaps I could consider it."

*

It was pain he registered first, pain that hunted him through his troubled waking dreams and eventually chased him from them altogether. There was a persistent, tingling ache throughout his nerves, as if they had caught fire and were still packed with smoldering embers. His right hip and knee burned as well, though with the memory of impact, having taken the brunt of his drop to the stone floor. Crowley had obviously done nothing to treat his injuries, nor enlisted anyone else to do so.

Trying to outwit the fire in his nerves, Malleus tried contorting his body into various, unnatural positions. Sometimes, it only caused him an instant of white-hot suffering. Other times, the agony abated for a moment or two, while there was still tension from the move, but the second he relaxed or held still for too long, the pain burned through his defenses again, consuming him little by little.

He suspected Crowley hadn't intended for him to recover from the muddling haze of mental fog so soon, but Malleus' magic was a formidable force, gushing through him like a torrent, where for others it was a swiftly moving river or gentle stream. Spells cast upon him did not tend to take for long. Perhaps, if a spell were to be reapplied consistently, becoming a part of the torrent, mixing in little by little, it might affect him more powerfully and for much longer...but that would require planning and skilled perpetration... 

That was what Silver was doing to him. Recasting and fortifying this evil magic on a daily basis.

So there he was, awake and in agony of the heart and mind as well as of the body. He might have tried railing against the wards and locks he sensed sealing the room, but he saw no point. Beyond the room that was his prison, there were people he had hurt, and others who wished to hurt him. Moving, too, would hurt him far more than he already felt. So he remained on the couch, rolling about and trying to ease his suffering even for a few fleeting moments at a time. 

A skylight overhead told him that it was daytime, and he wondered if it had only been one night, or if his drifting senses had skipped over several days...or many. He couldn't tell, but he was sure someone would have come to offer him sustenance if it had been longer than a single night. And Lilia would certainly come for him. Sebek, too. Nothing could keep Sebek away... But, Silver...?

Would Silver come for Malleus at all? And if he did, would it be to rescue him, or to do away with him for good?

The light overhead drifted, strengthened, weakened, and faded. At some point, Malleus became lucid enough to realize that someone had indeed brought him food and water, along with a cup of spiced wine already gone cold. He fell upon it, ravenous, before the darkness took him again.

*

Feeling as though he had been trampled, flattened, and liquefied, Divus lay statuesque in a bath that had long-since lost its heat. It had been many years since he had partaken of an aphrodisiac of such strength, but it was necessary, if he was to keep up with a dosed Vil. As expected, the effects had not been as devastating on the two of them as on one unaccustomed to sampling poisons and potions, or fortified with alchemical magic. He regretfully admitted that the herculean stamina of the lion might have given Leona Kingscholar some measure of resistance, as well, though that dose had been only superficially diluted to mask the scent and taste. At best, Leona should be raging with fever. At worst, he might be comatose with exhaustion. The vast majority of unshielded men who had received a dose at full strength were cited to have fucked themselves to death. Those who actually lay with an incubus, of course, were drained of all life by the time their dying bodies seized in orgasm. 

As his tired mind wandered, Divus was struck with a sense of pride for all he had accomplished in Vil's grooming and tutelage. He would do very well, indeed.

It was a shame Crowley had not consented to Divus conducting the ritual—what a victory that would have been! In some ways, it seemed counterproductive to encourage Vil's role in Malleus' rescue, just as he had pointed out to the young man who was wise not to fully trust him. As it was, Divus knew Vil too well. He would be haunted by what he experienced with Malleus, just as he was haunted by the spectacle of the Kingscholar brothers. When the ritual was over, he would be loathe to ever touch Malleus again, and Leona would be rife with furious jealousy as a bonus. Malleus, on the other hand, would remember very little of recent days, since the hex had begun to overwhelm what added up to his magical immune system.

The trio would be torn apart for good, unable to so much as touch one another through to their graduation, at which point Divus would leave Nightraven Academy with Vil at his side. He would teach Vil the deeper magics of alchemy, and once Vil mastered the arts, he would join Divus in immortality, a worthy life companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww man, I finally got to post the scene I've been working towards for a few chapters now, but I hope it didn't get overshadowed by being in the first half of the chapter instead of the dramatic finish. ^^;


	9. Umbra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to today's Chapter 5 update, I was able to finish off this chapter with some bonus details about the coliseum! How perfect! I hope you enjoy the Mal/Vil I'm sure we all need now...

Leona's body was afire with passion, long after he could no longer produce any. By the time Lilia found him, searching for the herbs Leona had been sent to fetch, he was past the point of caring about anything but the emptiness within him that screamed to be filled and the misery etched on Vil's face, now etched into his mind. He was also beyond exhaustion, his muscles aching with torturous use; his body dangerously dehydrated and drenched in sweat, clawed and bitten to bloody shreds, and besmirched with a variety of other kinds of shame. 

Somehow, the fact that it was Lilia who found him was both especially humiliating and also a grave relief. The little prefect's practical handling and matter-of-fact nature made it easier to bear his humiliation. Even so, Leona was ashamed for Lilia to see him like so, knowing how Leona felt about Malleus.

Lilia asked nothing of what had happened to Leona—the how was obvious, though the who and the why, he refrained from prying into. Perhaps he was waiting for Leona to speak up of his own volition. Perhaps he just didn't care. Perhaps...he had more kindness in him than curiosity.

Whatever the reason, he merely transported Leona to his own room in the Savanaclaw dormitory, tending to Leona just as he had done Vil, the previous day. He seemed far more concerned than he had done, then, and Leona wished he had the strength to ask why. As it was, whenever he tried to speak, he could barely manage a whisper of sound. His throat was torn up with overuse and unbearably swollen. Even if it had been capable of making sound, he would not have had the energy to push the air up through his voice box with enough force to produce speech.

He was fine, though. He was going to be fine. He could handle the pain. His body would recover. He was never down for long.

Lilia should be focusing on resolving the issue of the hex on Malleus. He should be checking on his dorm leader, who had been alone for most of the day and was still in a dangerous state of mind. It was Malleus who needed him, not Leona.

And Vil. Vil needed someone. Vil needed comfort and kind words, anything that would drain the horror from him... 

If Leona had ever doubted that Vil loved him, he doubted it no longer. The look in Vil's eyes, seeing him with Farena like that... It could only be heartbreak.

Leona had tried to warn him. He'd tried to explain as best he could. Vil hadn't listened, and now, he was paying the price. It wasn't fair, though. It was Leona's price to pay.

"Stay still," Lilia said softly. "Don't try to move. You need to conserve your strength for healing. I can only do so much. Your body has to do the rest."

The vice dorm leader began to talk, then, as if to keep himself awake through the night. He talked of his fears for Malleus—fears which Leona shared. He talked of a clay doll. Leona didn't understand. He talked of his wrath for Divus Crewel. That, Leona understood all too well. He talked of his findings, and his hopes from their day's work, but also his concerns that this delay was going to set him back too far, and that he would not be able to complete the work.

Obviously, Malleus was his priority. So why the hell was he tending to Leona, who was going to be just fine?

"No," Lilia whispered. "You're not. You're dying, Leona." Lilia's face was a little blurry, but Leona was surprised to make out tears slipping down his cheeks. "I doubt that was his intention... But the subject of his homunculus must have been monstrously strong, and savage... The damage you've taken..." Lilia shook his head, and Leona blinked...but his eyes wouldn't open again. "I don't even know if the transfusion is working. My blood... It should be repairing you on the cellular level, but you're still... You're still..." A sob ravaged Leona's ears. It was an awful sound. He loathed it. "I waited too long. I wasted time warning Crowley... When he summoned me this morning to tell me how Malleus was faring..."

What was Lilia talking about? It had only been a few hours. Malleus was alone in his dorm room, writing some stupid speech for a presentation, the idiot. Like school even mattered to him. He was the most powerful mage Leona knew, and he was going to be king. Like Farena. Like Leona would never be. That was what happened when you died before pipsqueak princelings or their asshole fathers... You didn't get to be king.

It wasn't Farena's fault, though. Leona finally understood what Lilia had been telling him. It wasn't Farena who had done this to him, it was a homunculus, a fiend produced by Divus Crewel for the sole purpose of fucking Leona into a shallow grave. A temporary, fleeting, one-charge, high-powered humanoid dildo destroyer with Farena's face and an incubus' cum on its lips. If Leona wasn't so damned smitten, he might have resisted Farena's kiss, and everything would be different. He wouldn't have to die. Someday, he could strangle Cheka in his sleep and kick Farena off a cliff and be king, like he always wanted. King... Like Malleus. Vil was more of a queen.

"I hope so," Lilia whispered. "I hope he has the grace and power of a queen, because Malleus' life is in his hands now."

Small, cold fingers caressed Leona's cheek, but when he peeked through his heavy lashes, it wasn't Lilia's face he saw. It was the face of a handsome man who might have been Lilia's father or older brother. He felt ancient, and his eyes... Except... They were Lilia's eyes. His voice was Lilia's voice. His hands were Lilia's hands.

"Why not you?" Leona rasped, recalling the news Lilia had been relating to him as his mind wandered.

Vil was going to conduct ritualistic sex magic with Malleus to free him of the hex that was eating him alive. He'd been training with Crewel, and was resting for a day to meditate and recover before undertaking the task set before him.

"I can't," Lilia murmured, still hovering over Leona's face. "I'm not capable."

That couldn't be. Lilia was more capable than anyone Leona knew.

"There are fundamental requirements for sexual magic that I cannot meet," Lilia sighed. "Don't make me explain myself any more than that."

Oh. Because he was a vampire. Fair enough.

"I suppose I've given away all of my secrets to you," Lilia mused. "It might have been better to let you die...but I couldn't. Malleus would never forgive me."

"Malleus doesn't love me," Leona whispered, sadly.

"I don't know if that holds true, anymore," Lilia murmured. "You were his first. He's sentimental that way."

"He loves Vil."

"As do you."

"No, I..."

"Yes, you do. You told me as much, although I'm sure you don't remember."

"At least...they get to be together."

"You said that Vil dropped a posy of Narcissus when he saw you..."

"He wouldn't."

"He's sleeping with Divus Crewel."

"He's going to save Malleus."

"Trained by Divus Crewel."

"It's not Vil. He's not evil."

"He's hurt. Jealous. Angry. What if he's doing this for revenge?"

When Leona opened his eyes, fuming, he was shocked to find nobody there. How long had he been talking to himself, continuing the conversation begun with Lilia? Cautiously, he sat up. He was tired, but no longer incapacitated with exhaustion. He'd been speaking, if gruffly, so his throat was mostly mended. His body ached in a variety of places, but mostly with the deep, tight ache of consummated healing. 

He had no idea what day it was, what time it was, or what he'd missed. His head was a jumble of confusing memories and foggy blanks.

"Ruggie!"

"Leona-senpai... Ruggie's busy taking care of prefect duties, but I'm here if you need me," said Jack, poking his head shyly into the room.

"Where's Lilia?" Leona asked, squinting against the onset of a headache. "What's happening with Malleus? Is Vil going through with it?"

"Uh... Vanrouge-senpai stopped by this morning, but he left after checking in and giving you some medicine. As for Draconia-senpai or Vil-senpai... Sorry, I don't actually know anything."

"Then find out!" Leona roared, wincing in pain as his own voice hammered into his head like nails. Clutching his skull, he lay back down, breathing deeply and willing the headache away. "Get Lilia, if you can," he added. Aside from relieving his headache, Lilia was sure to be able to answer a few questions. If he couldn't be found, Leona was just going to have to go looking, himself.

*

The sunset was as dark blood on the horizon, night setting swiftly upon the high hill that carried Nightraven Academy. There, under the darkening, open sky of the coliseum, an unusual furnishing took up the central space. It was a circular bed; its twisted, black posts like gnarled wooden roots, spreading across the ground, away from the mattress.

Vil―clad only in a black, silk dressing robe for a show of modesty―shivered a little as a cool gust of air slipped through the cracks of the elemental wardings being cast and maintained by the majority of the school's prefects, situated about the premises of the academy. They had been enlisted—without explanation—to run interference on any abnormal weather brought about by the powerful ritual they knew nothing about. Apparently, Sebek Zigvolt, though a first-year student from Diasomnia, had also been drafted for some affinity he held with lightning, along with a couple of other weather-warlocks. The location for the ritual had been chosen for the shielding the venue provided, often home to epic clashes of magical prowess from magic shift tournaments to duels. If there was anywhere within the academy where a ritual conducting powerful, erotic chakral magic could be conducted without wreaking havoc among the students, this was it.

Within the walls of the coliseum were only five people. Divus, the headmaster, Lilia Vanrouge, Vil himself, and, of course...Malleus.

Held down on the bed as effectively as if shackled by black roots twisted about his arms and legs, Malleus writhed like a mad beast, his horns tearing rents in the black, silken sheets spread under his midnight hair. Vil watched for a short time, the rippling hollows of lilly white skin over the bones of Malleus' rib cage contorting with particularly sick fascination.

"What are you waiting for, a red carpet?" hissed Lilia, so tense with worry he was hardly recognizable as his usual, jolly self.

"Silence, or you will be removed," threatened Divus coolly.

The headmaster seemed almost comically nervous as sparks flew between the two, but he placated the small third-year with reminders that Vil must enter into the ritual with focus. They would simply have to let him take his time.

A few moments later, the three of them vanished behind wards of silence and invisibility—specialties of Dire Crowley, Vil presumed. He closed his eyes and endeavored to center himself and regain his focus.

He had been meditating almost constantly since his initial training with Divus. The chakra manipulation itself had proven easy enough to him—Divus praised him for a natural—but connecting with and maintaining his sense of the seven chakras within himself was a constant struggle. Disconcertingly, it was anahata with which Vil struggled the most. While meditating on it, he found himself thinking often of Malleus, remembering that moment in the library... The feel of horn under his fingers... The potent emotion in Malleus' eyes...

Would it have been so difficult...? That was what he found himself wondering. If he had simply agreed to work with Malleus in the first place, so much complication could have been avoided... But what of the complications he would have faced, instead? If, in the library, he had given over to the attraction building within him instead of making a break for it... Would that have been an easier path? 

There was a good chance they would simply have ended up in exactly the same place. The events in the alchemy lab, the jealousy, the overblott... Vil felt an odd sense of inevitability in them. That was either the wisdom of manipura and his gut instinct, or ajna, where his analytical instinct thrived. Perhaps a little of both.

Contemplating Malleus, and trying to dissect all of their interactions was one way of trying to better understand the heart chakra and how he, himself, could connect with it. Similarly, he thought primarily of Divus when engaging with his root chakra, and a great deal of Leona when focusing on his solar plexus chakra. He perhaps spent a little too long in contemplation of manipura, luxuriating in the odd combination of peace and animalistic desire it instilled in him. He was avoiding doing the hard work, avoiding thinking on Malleus and anahata. It was hard, tuning in to a chakra he had to think deeply on just to feel. It was there, though. Of that, he was certain. And little by little, he began to become certain of something else...

Looking on Malleus' twisting, writhing form, tormented with anguish, it was difficult to deny the sick distress that overcame him. Vil had developed feelings for Malleus. Not lust, not admiration... Actual feelings. It was different to how he felt about Leona. That was a comfortable, familiar attraction. This... This scared him. Malleus scared him.

All of a sudden, Divus materialized behind Vil, emerging from the concealment of the wards. He placed his hands on poised shoulders and leaned down to whisper into Vil's ear...

"It's time. You can do this." His breath made Vil shiver with arousal, charged as he already was with sexual energy from stretching himself in thorough preparation.

"Obviously," Vil responded, with far more confidence than he truly felt. "Now back off. Crowley's watching."

"I'll deal with Crowley," Divus growled, the low rumble perfectly pitched to Vil's ears and no others.

"How exactly does he think you trained me, anyway...?" Vil murmured back, arching a fine brow.

Clearing his throat, Divus straightened and moved around in front of Vil. He was the picture of professionalism, with the exception of a smug up-turn to the very edge of his lips.

"Now, Vil, given the nature of this ritual, I am sure you will feel self-conscious." Divus projected, loudly enough for the peanut gallery. "However, this is no time to be shy. This ritual is exceedingly dangerous. I must ask one last time, are you quite sure you are willing to do this?"

"I will do what I must, Professor," Vil responded, playing his part to perfection, he was sure.

"Very well. Then, allow me a small impropriety—an initial boost of your root chakra to help ground you and prepare you for what is to come."

It was bold of him, that was for sure. To kiss Vil right there, in the open, under the watching eyes of Dire Crowley and Lilia Vanrouge... It was...devious. There was little visible sexuality to the exchange, though Divus' tongue made tantalizing little motions in Vil's mouth that stirred his desire. Then again, perhaps that was the root energy rising in him, resonating with Divus' affinity for muladhara.

When their lips parted, there was no more delaying. He had to act while the fresh boost of root chakra was strong within him.

"Thank you," he said to his lover, with more earnestness than he remembered having expressed before.

"You are most welcome," Divus replied, stepping away to an appropriate distance. "Just remember to hold your focus, no matter what."

No amount of study or meditation could have prepared Vil for the reality of his task. Even just approaching Malleus was draining, with the fae prince giving off a storm of magic that hit Vil in the gut as soon as he so much as touched the bed. How was he supposed to channel all that raw, chaotic power...? 

Slipping the robe from his shoulders, Vil stood proudly, a step from the bed, letting Malleus' magic buffet him ineffectually. He felt beautiful and sexy, his hair pinned up, his makeup minimal but stunning. He wasn't self-conscious at all. In fact, he felt more powerful than he had ever done in his life. He was in his element, and soon Malleus would be under his power.

Once he sat on the edge of the bed, however, it was all he could do to maintain a rigid grip on his own chakra, to hold on to who he was and what he embodied. Likewise, Malleus' physical flailing hindered his attempts to get close, until he closed his eyes for a moment and envisioned the red strength of muladhara filling his every crevice, and launched himself atop the prince. It was hardly a graceful move, but pinning Malleus down, he felt a sense of heady control that further encouraged him, and allowed him to assert his sense of self.

"Hello, Malleus," he said, his voice low and seductive, but also authoritative, as he continued to envision threads of red chakra reaching out from within him, latching onto Malleus and coiling around his limbs.

"V-Vil...?" There was such panic in that worn voice, such heartbreaking misery. "Not you, too... Anyone but you..."

"Settle down, your royal highness, and look me in the eyes," Vil said calmly, steadily focusing on transferring more of his chakral energy to Malleus, trying to exude calm and grounding through it. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Hurt me? No, you just want to kill me! Like everyone else! Like Silver!" 

Malleus was beyond logic. The hex had worn him down, instilling paranoia in every thought.

"Enough talk. Feel me. Look into my eyes and hold on... Just hold on, Malleus. Feel me. Hold onto me." The more he repeated himself, the quieter Vil's voice grew. He pushed his limits, envisioning the red chakra wrapping them both tightly and permeating the black fog he imagined rising from Malleus skin, representing the hex. It was too much too soon, and he began to feel strained. He needed the physical connection to anchor them together, or he wouldn't last five minutes trying to replace Malleus' energies with his own, by willpower alone.

From the pocket of his meager raiment, draped on a gnarled bedpost, Vil produced a small bottle of seed of the incubus, which Divus promised him was carefully diluted. Dosing someone like Malleus was difficult, as his immense well of magic provided further dilution. Divus did, however, believe that a dose similar to that Vil used on himself―built-up tolerance and all―would be effective.

The effects were immediate, and intense. Vil nearly doubled over as he hardened so fast he felt lightheaded. It felt like he was cramping, but when the discomfort passed, he was impossibly aroused, his hips rubbing unconsciously over Malleus' lower body.

From the sounds of it, Malleus was struck with equal invigoration. Gradually, his writhing took on more purpose, his hips beginning to buck furiously. Vil had to use hisbody to push Malleus down into the bed, feeling a little like he was riding a bull, his erection throbbing in anticipation of exactly that.

He had discussed the possible positions with Divus, eventually capitulating to the professor's conclusion that he would have to take passive control by riding Malleus. It was the safest way to approach the act as long as Malleus was out of his mind. If he tried to penetrate the fae prince in this state, it could be taken as an act of aggression. It would also be more difficult to focus if he was tasked with the extra physical burden. The symbolism of taking Malleus might have offset that difficulty some, but his practice with Divus gave him confidence that he could use either form of connection to strengthen the flow of chakra between himself and his partner.

Even as he gathered his strength to try and mount his steed, a cry escaped Vil as a wave of heat roared through him, the seed of the incubus demanding satisfaction. He hadn't expected it to have such a relentless grip. Even as he pushed down on Malleus' chest, trying to counter the wild struggles of the suffering man, his fingers bent into claws, his toes curling in kind. Panting, he used his hands for balance while he gripped Malleus tightly between his thighs, trying desperately to position himself.

With a growl, Malleus slammed his hips upward, almost tossing Vil right off the bed, but Vil dug his claws in and wriggled his hips until the cock crushed up against Vil's backside bobbed into place. He was well-prepped, anticipating a struggle, though nothing like this. Reaching out with his chakra, he tried to instill a sense of comfort in Malleus as best he could as he pressed back and down, taking the prince inside of himself in spite of the difficulty of the maneuver.

Once they were joined, it was all Vil could do, at first, to maintain his hold on the root chakra. There was a black abyss beneath him, slowly rising and threatening to swallow him whole. He fought it off, imagining himself ablaze with red light, eventually coming to shine down upon Malleus if not to fill him. He was barely moving, but Malleus continued to buck and writhe beneath him and that aggressive friction alone had Vil riding the edge already. Clamping his ass cheeks tightly, he grit his teeth and focused on his pelvic region, his root, teeming with hazy red light. Even if only at that point of connection, if he could infuse even a little of his chakra into Malleus...

They both came, screaming, and as he screamed, the light within Vil exploded in a conflagration that momentarily engulfed them both, dragging out that first orgasm for far longer than should be possible. Barely holding onto his wits, he fell, panting to lay on Malleus' chest, slick with sweat. He almost lost the root chakra, then, and began to feel a cold, black void creeping into him, but he maintained a seed of power in his root, and held onto that with all of his might, coddling it and encouraging it to grow again. With it grew his passion, until he was once more inflamed with ecstasy, rubbing his body back and forth against Malleus', the prince still locked inside of him, throbbing with need.

So Vil continued, gradually exerting his influence over Malleus with every subsequent release, until he felt the prince as a pale, red reflection, rife with passion. Almost naturally, that red haze began to take on an orange glow, and the dynamic between Vil and Malleus grew more intense and instinctual. The flow between them was strong and constant, and Vil didn't have to work so hard to maintain the visualization of chakra cycling between them. He focused on colors and intents, on who he was, and who he took Malleus to be. As they travelled up through manipura, Malleus' animal instincts took on a savagery that was as alluring to Vil as it was terrifying. He felt scratches across his skin, and powerful haunches working to drive Malleus up into him with renewed determination. He almost lost himself in the sensations for a while, burning a bright yellow and transferring that power in an endless cycle until Malleus was like a blazing sun beneath him.

Once or twice, he began to visualize that yellow blaze rising up through the sternum, taking on a green tinge, but he was afraid, and not fully committed, and the cold, black void stirred in Malleus' heart, lying in wait like a trap. Even the yellow began to recede, to give way to the darkness...

That was when Vil felt a warm hand on his lower back, bolstering him. At first, it stole from him, bleeding some of the bright, yellow chakra of manipura...but soon the energy returned two-fold, and Vil pushed it into Malleus in turn, stabilizing that chakra and pushing back against the darkness. He felt warm, naked flesh press against his side, felt lips on his neck. He couldn't risk turning his focus from Malleus for even a second, but he knew that touch as easily as he knew his own. It was Divus, come to back him up, propriety be damned.

As a practiced hand curled about Vil's erection, stroking deftly, he felt the nudge of anahata energy, and latched onto it. Divus couldn't drive this. It had to be him, but that subtle prompt and the physical support gave him the strength and courage to push on. He left Divus bring him to the edge, and he held on against the tide of the aphrodisiac still raging in his system. When he was close, the chakra was strongest in him, and he was able to dwell in it, let it fill him completely. Divus' touches and kisses were subtle but vital in keeping him present in the moment and eventually bringing him to orgasm and another wave of chakral purification, but it was Malleus who filled Vil, whose hardness grazed against sensitive inner walls, whose balls squished against rolling flesh. Once again, they came together, Vil dragging Malleus through the blaze of green energy that consumed him.

When the aftershocks passed, Vil sat upright, sliding his hands down to Malleus' abdomen to maintain balance and focus more energy through his fingertips as he rocked gently, resisting the urgency of the demonic chemical that tormented him. The battle with the darkness in Malleus' heart would be long and grueling. He had to drive the light of the chakral energy upward with persistent dedication. Mirroring the progression with his hands would help him maintain the mental fortitude not to retreat again. He couldn't afford to. The cost would be too great.

As the fight drew on, Vil began to experience the unexpected side effect of his own darkness escaping through random falls of tears, until his was crying consistently, his hands layered above Malleus' heart, channeling chakra with all of his might. As before, Divus siphoned some of that chakra, cycling it through himself and returning it two-fold as his hands traveled freely over Vil's skin, and Vil felt a powerful love he hadn't known was hidden away in the man. The reality of it was like a fresh breeze, strengthening Vil's resolve. There was a bitter-sweet irony to using that love, overpowering it, and bestowing it upon Malleus in turn, as a gift from his own heart. He knew that pain must be even harder for Divus to bear.

Gradually, as a seed of pure, green light began to shine in Malleus' breast, a change overcame him. His eyes softened, focusing on Vil's face. Those eyes were the very shade of anahata, and Vil found inspiration in them, drawing upon the love he saw there and using it to reflect back to Malleus how loved he was. When Vil leaned down to press their lips together, Malleus passively accepted the kiss, eventually returning it with more and more vigor as his whole body took on the green glow of a healthy heart chakra.

*

Divus found little enjoyment in watching his lover tossed about like a yacht in stormy seas atop the cock of another man. Whatever twisted entertainment he had imagined was sorely lacking. Instead, he seethed with jealousy, and could hardly bear to watch. However, when he averted his gaze, he saw to his left the intense stare of the headmaster, trained upon Vil and Malleus' entwined forms, and to his right, Lilia Vanrouge would glance back up at him with hatred so potent it was almost alive. Normally, such a reaction would hardly phase Divus, but something about Lilia bred an instinct of fear in him, and he turned his eyes reluctantly back to the ongoing ritual.

His jealousy began to morph into concern when they were over three hours past the midnight commencement and the energies leaking out from the ritual field still smacked firmly of manipura. Vil should be well into the transition to anahata, but he hadn't even begun to convert that energy. Anahata was where the blockage was most potent, and it would take the longest time to clear...which meant that Vil was going to drain himself dry before he could complete the ritual... When the strength of the chakra radiating toward the watchers began to wane, Divus knew there was no other choice but for him to intervene, and he announced as much.

"I forbid you from doing any such thing," Crowley responded right away, though his tone was laced with doubt.

"I must!" Divus cried, slamming his hands against the ward Crowley hastily threw up to stop him from marching forward.

"Absolutely not. They're you're students, Divus. It isn't appropriate," insisted the headmaster.

"They'll die, Crowley! Is that appropriate!?" Divus yelled, whirling on the man doing an excellent impression of an imbecile. "The future King of the Valley and the sweetheart of the entire land will die here, under your watch...while I could still save them!"

"You will allow it," came a cold, quiet order from Divus' right.

"M-Mr. Vanrouge...?" Crowley stammered, intriguingly shaken.

"As much as I abhor the truth of it," Lilia said in a tight, angry drawl, "The professor is right. If I could do it myself, I would... I cannot, and neither can you, or anyone else you would consider more appropriate, for that matter. There is no one else in the academy—perhaps anywhere—who can prevent the calamity of Malleus Draconia's untimely demise. No one hale, anyway..."

"Mr. Schoenheit may yet..."

"Vil is barely holding on! He's fading!" Divus cried, grasping onto the opening. "Even his strength and control are no match for that monster you call a student! Vil is outmatched, alone, and I will not sit here and do nothing when I have it in my power to make a difference!"

What frightened Divus most was how his voice cracked with desperation. For once, he had absolutely no control over the situation, and it mattered more than ever that he should. Vil mattered. Vil's life mattered. It was awful timing to discover that the jealous possession he felt over Vil was, in fact, a manifestation of genuine love. It was also exactly the right time, for that was what Vil needed most from him, right now.

"That's rich..." snarled Lilia. "Coming from you."

"Tell me you aren't actually involved with him, Divus... With a student under your protection..."

"Enough," Divus gasped, feeling despair settle in his gut. "I quit. Happy, Crowley? I'm no longer a professor here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am still a master magician with a duty to my protege. Lower your wards or I will remove their source."

The threat was clear. Wards would fail when the caster died. Crowley favored him with a baleful glare, but he did raise his hand and drop it almost musically, bringing the wards down with his motion.

Divus didn't waste another breath. He ran for the bed where Vil was caught in a seizure somewhere between pleasure and pain, the light of his chakra fading to a pale yellow. He stripped, hastily, but caught himself before he did something rash and interrupted Vil's focus. He had to work cautiously and subtly, lending his strength and focus to Vil for exactly as long as he was needed and no more... It pained him that he could not take the burden out of Vil's hands entirely, but what he was doing was dangerous enough, however necessary. If Vil doubted him... If he'd shown too much of his hand... It could fall to pieces. Worse, if Malleus became aware of his involvement, the results could be catastrophic. If he did nothing, they would be unthinkable.

*

"You know there's something seriously wrong with him, don't you?" Lilia dryly asked the headmaster, who was staring helplessly after Divus Crewel.

"His methods are unorthodox—"

"Forget his methods. You have to know what he's done with his alchemy..."

Dire shook his head in denial, but the truth was, he had some inkling. A gifted student, Divus had always been drawn to grand feats of magic, and his aptitude for alchemy had taken him down a path of exploration in his time away from the academy. He had returned an incredibly powerful, confident man, possessed of deep knowledge and remarkable magical prowess. Dire had wondered...but he had refrained from speculating. He'd rather not know where Divus' power had been acquired from.

"You and I have lived long enough to know where the pursuit of alchemy eventually leads."

"He's too young. He can't possibly have learned the secrets of immortality..."

"I've seen it once... Converting a life into power is one thing, but expending that power... It twists a person, warps them... It kills a piece of their own soul along with the life spent. Makes you wonder what would happen if someone were to harvest and burn through multiple lives... Hundreds..."

"Nonsense. That's a monstrous idea," Dire murmured.

He could not deny, however, that there had been a nastiness growing in Divus of late. The man was changing, almost on a daily basis. If Lilia's accusations were correct, and if what he implied was indeed possible... Shivering, Dire remembered the scene he had come across in Divus' classroom; Malleus Draconia on his knees, Divus about to violate him, claiming to be administering aid...

Considering the magnitude of the ritual playing out before them, there was no way Divus had been intending to implement any such thing at the time. It was impossible. Which left only the answer that he had been acting out of malice. Dire didn't remember Divus as a malicious young man. Troubled, perhaps...but not malicious. Never that.

"If," he began, reluctant to give even this much ground... "If you are onto something, we must help him, Liliadent... He's lost."

"If," whispered the slight young man behind whose eyes resided centuries of wisdom... "If Malleus survives this...I will consider letting Divus Crewel live long enough to devour his own rotten soul."

The silence stretched out between them after that, permeated only by the erotic cacophony of sounds that cut through the night along with the first rays of dawn. That was, until Leona Kingscholar stumbled upon the scene.

"What the fuck...? Is this for real?"

*

As they kissed, Vil felt the warmth of fresh tears on his cheeks. Every memory he'd ever accumulated of Malleus, no matter how insignificant, played before his closed eyelids. How many little moments he had forgotten... Charming little flashes of a smile, smug pride in a potion well made, passing comments to Vil at meetings of the dorm leaders or in the hallway, sweet words of praise that had felt sarcastic at the time...

"I'm sorry," Vil whispered, and as he spoke, the chakra he saw in the words that carried his breath glinted with a light hint of blue. Visuddha was the chakra of communication, and speech was a powerful channel for it. So Vil began to speak his truth. "I judged you before I even knew you. I convinced myself you were conceited and corrupt. I hated you for being so perfect at everything without even trying. I hated you for being better than me. I hated you for looking down on me. Then... When I started to see you for who you were, I couldn't lie to myself any longer, and it scared me. You scared me... You weren't... You aren't who I thought you were. You're strong and proud, but you're also shy and full of doubt. You hide it well, and I respect that... But you hide it too well. How was I supposed to know you were actually this incredible, brilliant mind and loving soul I wish I'd gotten to know years ago...? I'm sorry I blew you off. It wasn't entirely intentional. I was exhausted. I stayed up all night, studying to show you up...and I fell asleep after my flying lesson. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," Malleus breathed, his voice in shreds from the near-constant expression of his intense pain and pleasure. "I never dreamed you would mean to hurt me... Not until I saw you with him."

"You weren't supposed to see that," Vil whispered ever more quietly, even though he was aware that Divus had retreated as soon as the battle for anahata had passed.

"Leona meant to punish me," Malleus said with a slight sob of emotion.

"No!" Vil nearly sobbed, too. "No, that punishment was for me... I hurt him, too. Maybe even more than I hurt you. It's all my fault. You didn't do anything wrong." 

"I lost control. I nearly killed you."

The more they talked, the more of the truth they discussed, the higher their chakras rose, climbing toward enlightenment. As they talked, they rocked intimately, no longer driven by insatiable need, but instead by raw emotion and mutual desire.

"That was my fault, too," Vil insisted. "I pushed you to it."

"No," Malleus growled. "Not you. This hex... That man."

An old seed of suspicion began to set down roots, but Vil couldn't spare any thought for it. He was focusing too hard... Focusing so hard on ajna, centering his chakra in his third eye... The dark blue hue was like a screen around them... And then, it didn't require any thought at all, for he simply knew. Divus had lied to him, again and again. The hex was his doing. One way or another, he was responsible for it. The love he had channeled into Vil told it all. He was dangerously jealous of Vil's growing interest in Malleus...and his established feelings for Leona. Somehow, Divus had arranged that little scene in the greenhouse, too...

Shaking off the revelations that would breed nothing but rage and the pain of betrayal, Vil valiantly and stubbornly centered his thoughts back on Malleus. He spoke the words that would release Malleus' bonds. They were no longer necessary. Straightening up, he encouraged Malleus to move with him, the fae's deceptively powerful muscles supporting him easily. He gasped as Malleus rocked him and sparks began to fly in a whole new way.

Leaning back, Vil felt pieces of his once neatly pinned braids trailing down to tickle his neck. "Is it true?" he asked, peering through his lashes at the gorgeous prince who was his match in so many ways. "Are you in love with me?"

Malleus didn't question where Vil might have heard that from. He didn't blush or stammer. He replied with stunning confidence, pressing forward to pin Vil down to the bed, head hanging over the edge.

"Yes. And I finished our presentation."

Vil was so focused on the initial statement, he barely heard the latter, and when it processed, he had no idea what Malleus was talking about at first, as thrust after powerful thrust struck deep within him. Eventually, he figured it out, but by then, he was caught in the grip of one final, powerful orgasm, purging the last of the cruel aphrodisiac and the last of his endurance. His field of vision was filled with a bright purple, his head buzzing with an intense pressure.

He clung desperately to Malleus as his body simultaneously seized and trembled violently, causing a deep ache through every muscle in his body. He was vaguely aware of Malleus' hand cradling the back of his head, the prince holding him tightly but gently as all color was bled from the world and he faded from consciousness.

*

Exhaustion and agony ate away at Malleus' hard-won inner peace. He was naked, bruised, scratched to smithereens and smeared in blood, sweat, and semen. It took everything he had to call upon both fire and water at once to douse he and the unconscious man beneath him in a warm torrent to wash away the worst of the grime. Even that didn't wake Vil. Gathering every shred of otherworldly bearing about him in a cloak of dignity and endurance, Malleus rose from the bed and lifted Vil into his arms. Gazing down at the breathtaking, sleeping beauty, he indulged in a soft moment of peace before his eyes lifted to pierce the vale, seeing right through the wards to the four men who sat in observation in the stands of the coliseum. Lilia's relief was second only to the charged anger he kept tightly under wraps. The headmaster seemed utterly uncomfortable. Leona was a wreck, and looked disturbingly small and diminished, his ears and tail drooping depressingly. However, Malleus had eyes only for one man in that moment, and they were filled with the promise of retribution.

A small, dangerous smile crept across his lips, seconds before a bolt of green lightning cleaved Divus Crewel in two, leaving in its wake a charred, mutilated corpse and a silence that rang in the ears of the stunned onlookers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oopsie.


	10. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update...another installment of Mithrid. ^^

A painful shock of surprise jolted Leona into a stunned trance, his sensitive ears ringing angrily enough to make him dizzy. For all that he had been snarling and shooting death glares at Divus Crewel from the moment the professor extricated himself from the quaint little public threeway nobody cared to explain, the cooked mess that was left of him when the lightning bolt was through was visceral, even for Leona.

Too bad it wouldn't last... Probably.

Once his sense of balance recovered, along with a portion of his hearing, Leona strode away from the murder zone, making a beeline for the sociopathic fairy and his wilted queen. Well, it would have been a beeline if Leona had regained enough equilibrium to walk a straight line.

"What the actual fuck was that!? Have you lost it again!?" he demanded of Malleus as he neared.

Instead of snarling back, Malleus swayed and almost dropped Vil, stumbling right into Leona's arms. With the unconscious man between them, Malleus rested his horns wearily atop Leona's shoulder, his forehead butting Leona's collar bone.

"Once again, I owe you a debt of gratitude," murmured the oblivious fae.

Leona was of the opinion that Malleus owed him a great deal more than that, but he didn't have time to say so before they were beset by Lilia and Crowley, both of whom had evidently decided to leave the smoldering pile of human waste to its own devices for a while.

"You should be in bed," Lilia muttered for the third time since Leona had figured out where the ritual had to be going down. 

Being the only one who knew about it aside from these four, he was also the only one who didn't think it was weird the entire school wasn't going into heat. The coliseum, with its protective magic, was the obvious place to look.

"And you, Malleus... Oh, look at you, you dear fool," Lilia simpered.

Grudgingly allowing Leona to take custody of Vil, Malleus let his arm be slung over Lilia's shoulder, for all the good it did, considering their height difference. Leona ducked defiantly under the other arm, jostling Vil limply in his grasp to better manage both burdens.

"They gonna make it, Lilia?" Leona asked in a mutter, wishing somebody would offer him an explanation for any part of this mess.

"I don't know," Lilia said, his voice drawn with stress, like a bow string on the verge of snapping. "Something's not right with Vil."

"He saved my life," whispered Malleus. "And I... I..."

"I know," Lilia responded, cutting Malleus off with a guilty glance for Leona. "I know, Malleus. I'll do what I can."

As they waited for Crowley to finish drawing a single-use magic circle that would transport them all to the infirmary or wherever, Leona grew increasingly more uncomfortable. In his arms was a man he had kissed and flirted with what felt like yesterday. Leaning on him was the man he had ruthlessly bedded shortly before that.

None of that compared to what he had just witnessed. Whatever intense emotion had coursed between Malleus and Vil, it was deep and instinctual. Leona couldn't compete with that. Vil had spoken lightly of seducing Malleus to tease him, but it was clear that what the two had just experienced went far beyond seduction. They had connected on an intense and personal level. Whatever it was, it was real.

They looked incredible together, too, as though they were made to fit together, like yin and yang. There was no place for Leona to stand between them, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Divus Crewel was one thing, but if Vil was falling in love with Malleus, Leona had no qualms with that. Malleus was worthy of Vil's love...and vice, versa.

With every passing moment, Malleus was leaning more heavily on Leona, his breath growing shallower, as though he had fallen asleep on his feet. Vil, too, began to feel heavier. So much so that Leona grunted in complaint.

"Hm? Malleus?" Lilia sounded puzzled, at first, but then his tone grew panicked. "Leona, watch out!"

"Huh?" Coughing, Leona looked down at Vil in his arms, almost dropping his burden when he found a billowing miasma rolling off of it.

Acting purely on instinct, he lunged away and spun, propelling his leg around to catch Malleus in the gut with a powerful Impact that sent the lighter fae flying onto the bed behind him. Lilia leapt away, raising his sleeves over his mouth and nose. Meanwhile, the rapid motion sent up a cloud around Leona, who immediately began to feel sluggish and weak. As his strength faded, however, Vil began to rise up out of his arms, floating into the air as smoke coalesced about his body and began to take form. The formfitting, corseted, drastically collared ensemble that took shape was like nothing Leona had ever seen before.

"He used too much magic," Crewel rasped, superficially recovered. He stumbled toward the group. "He's overblotting."

"Thanks, Professor Obvious," Leona gasped, doubling over with a nasty cough.

"Get away from him, quick!" Lilia cried, his voice gushing with touching urgency.

Leona shook his head. "Can't move."

He was on the verge of sliding pathetically to the ground when a brisk wind picked him up and deposited him beside Malleus on the bed. He barely had time to realize that wind was Crowley before the bed itself shot up into the air, lifting he and Malleus well out of harm's way.

Swearing, Leona tried to peer over the edge to see what was going on, but whatever that smoke was, he was still largely immobilized, instantly feeling dizzy and nauseous when he tried to move. Malleus didn't seem to have any such problems, but he simply sat patiently in the middle of the bed while Leona growled and desperately hugged the mattress.

"How are you so calm?" Leona gasped, not really expecting an answer.

"Lilia is down there; and Crowley, for that matter. They can handle it."

"You're stronger than they are."

"And on the brink of exhaustion. One mis-step. and I could become like Vil. Again. We wouldn't want that, now, would we?"

"You really are calm..." observed Leona, feeling slightly reassured himself, somehow.

What Malleus didn't point out was that he had just undergone a gruelling ritual to lift a hex that he was now free from for the first time in who knew how long... He also didn't rub in the fact that he had been wrung dry, orgasm by orgasm, and was in a state of lethargy so intense, it was hard to see straight. He didn't even mention that he had wasted a good deal of his remaining strength on felling Crewel out of spite.

What he did do, was slowly reach out and slide his palm around Leona's ear, running his thumb up and down, caressing the fine furs of the inner edge. He stroked just hard enough to draw an involuntary purr from the prone lion—a purr that was interrupted by a cough and another wave of nausea.

"Allow me," Malleus murmured, laboriously moving to lay beside Leona, still caressing the sensitive little tufts that tipped therian ears.

Leona froze, holding his breath as Malleus leaned toward him, his lips parting slowly before closing over Leona's. It was a sluggish, languid kiss, and it felt like Malleus was sucking the air right out of him... And then Malleus jerked away, coughing wretchedly. He swallowed heavily, his eyes closed and brows twitching, before arching violently and expelling a plume of purple flame.

He fell to the mattress, lying still enough to rekindle a spark of panic in Leona's chest, but then his eyes drifted open, the lids lifting gradually, as though each bearing a mountain of weight. His head turned, and those luminous green eyes pierced into Leona, their beauty exceeded only by the tiny twitch of a smile that played upon his lips.

"Even?" he murmured.

"Not even close," Leona growled.

However, instead of using his renewed vigor to pounce on Malleus, either to strangle or kiss him, he shifted closer and lay his head on the fae prince's chest, rubbing his cheek and nudging Malleus' chin until he was obliged with gentle fingers on his ear, caressing intermittently. He couldn't quite relax, imagining what was going on down below, but he was powerless to help...and someone had to keep an eye on Malleus. If he'd been dangerously close to magical burnout before drawing the poison out of Leona, he was really walking the line, now...

Leona, himself, had already well exceeded his physical limits, having risen from his sick bed in the dark of the night and sat in the cold, watching the two men he loved entwined in endless coitus for at least two hours... And then, that poisonous curse, seeping into him, eating away at his resistance... He'd always known Vil was as terrifying as he was beautiful, he just hadn't quite realized the sheer depth of that dark power. That anyone so precise and controlled could harbor such darkness inside was a frightful thought. How much had Leona contributed to the pain and torment that bore such a poisonous grudge...? He understood, now, the anguish of jealousy. He'd thought he was resolved to let them be, Vil and Malleus, but the gentle fingers playing about his ear...and stroking his hip... The soft feel of Malleus' bare chest under his cheek... The strong thigh that shifted minutely under the telling beating of his tail... He wanted Malleus more than ever. In fact, before, he'd been content to keep his feelings to himself and let Farena assuage what loneliness he couldn't suppress. Now, for the first time, he knew that wasn't enough for him.

Unable to fully express the frustration of emotion building up inside of him, Leona stretched his neck and slowly sank his teeth into Malleus' shoulder in reproach. In response, long nails, coated black, dug into his hip. They remained in the deadlock until both were lulled to a strange, waking sleep, aware of the struggle going on below yet peacefully removed from it. They waited, ever so subtly recharging their energies for what may await when they came back down to land.

*

Still reeling from the brutal death that he would be haunted by for many years to come, Divus dug deep, calling up a host of memories of his time with Vil over the years. Private lessons in the art of distilling poison, private lessons in matters of the flesh... His pride in seeing his protege rise to the top of every class... If Vil couldn't be called back to himself, Crowley would be forced to end him. Divus could not allow that, for Vil was his masterpiece.

"Now, now, Mr. Schoenheit. I accept that I have been rather remiss in my duties. Shall we retire to my office to discuss ramifications...?" For now, the headmaster was attempting to negotiate...rather poorly.

Knowing Crowley's tactic was futile, Lilia instead dove in to trade a round of rapid blows with the overblotting dorm leader before retreating to a safe distance to get his bearings. He was still assessing Vil's strength and forming a strategy. He wouldn't hold back so for long. 

With Lilia's retreat, Vil blatantly ignored the headmaster and turned his full attention upon Divus. His expression was contorted with hatred that dug like a knife.

"You filthy traitor," hissed the demon wearing Vil's face. "You played me well, but I see through you, now. Your exterior may be exquisite but it's barely a shell to mask your true face. No matter. When you're gone... When you're all gone... I'll be the only beautiful thing left in this world!"

Recognizing the hopelessness of getting through to Vil in time, Divus invoked the names of not one, but three of the souls that lived in him before Crowley could catch onto his plans. "Puddles." His strength and magic flared dramatically, staving off the effects of the cursed cloud that tainted the air. "Cadpig." An iron fortress in the form a kennel crashed down around him as he charged Vil, locking out all outside forces, including Dire Crowley and Lilia Vanrouge. "Jewel." He locked eyes with the maddened Vil, dragging his raging soul into another plane beyond the physical, where he could reason with his lover without the pesky disruption of the poison filling his lungs and corroding his body where it stood in griplock with Vil's.

Screaming, Vil's astral avatar made to gouge Divus' face, thwarted by their mutual incorporeal state. His expression set in grim lines, Divus dropped to his knees, bowing low in remorse.

"I failed you," he groaned.

"You lied to me!" Vil screeched! "You did this! You did all of this! Malleus, Leona...! It was all you!"

It was true. Divus could not deny it. Vil must have worked it out during the ritual, his third eye open to all of the smallest inconsistencies and possibilities towards the end. A weak laugh began somewhere in his chest and spilled out.

"Yes," he said, drawing out each sound to its fullest as he gradually lifted his gaze. "I lied. I hexed Malleus Draconia. I spelled his human servant into dosing him every morning until his own paranoia tore him apart. I created a homunculus to prey upon Leona Kingscholar's disgusting weakness for his own flesh and blood and sent you to the greenhouse to catch them in the act."

This time, Vil tried blasting Divus with magic, but that, too, went right through Divus' astral form. Eventually, Vil tired of the concerted effort, letting out a raw scream of despair.

"I trusted you! For years, I let you poison me, fuck me, corrupt me...!"

"Strengthen you, train you... Love you. I love you, Vil. I did all of this for the love of you."

"You don't love me! Nobody can love me! I'm horrid, rotten, diseased! I have to destroy you all, destroy everything! That's the only way I can be the most beautiful again! It's the only way I can... I can..."

"I do love you. There's no one in the world as beautiful as you are. That's why I want you to come away with me. I'll teach you everything... The secrets to my power, the answer to immortality... I couldn't let them have you, see...? I had to ruin them, to be sure you would see them for the inferior beings they are... So you would see only me, love only me... Forever. No one else matters."

There was a long silence as Vil's rage gradually transitioned to horror. No more did he scream and rail. Instead, he let loose a thin wail, backing unsteadily away.

As he did, Divus went into a coughing fit, his world spinning as his ability to hold them on the astral plane waned and he was thrust back into his failing body. He gasped and hacked, lying crumpled on the ground.

Vil, too, lay in a piteous pile, but managed to claw himself upright, silent tears painting black tracks down his wane cheeks.

"I...did this..." he breathed, as the overblott form slowly bled from him, leaving him a naked, bedraggled student once more. "I did it all... I'm poison; killing everything around me with my hideous ego..." He sobbed, crawling toward Divus. "I did this...to you..."

Laughing and coughing at once, Divus could not respond. It was all he could do to dispel the iron kennel. He had little choice but to let Vil drag him into weak, tired arms and rock him softly.

"Lilia," Vil whimpered, supposedly addressing the approaching Diasmonia student. Divus couldn't tell. His eyes wouldn't open. "Help me..."

"Hrhrmm!" A cleared throat and a bold laugh that could only come from Crowley irritated Divus' ears. "Only because I am so nice, I shall...rescue my former employee...with this antidote."

Divus shied away from the cold hands rifling the inner pockets of his clothing for the antidote he had on hand for this very curse. He had known there was a possibility of Vil overextending himself like this, and he had long since formulated countermeasures to Vil's unique magic. Preparing an antidote was the obvious thing to do. Luckily, he had mentioned its existence to Crowley to help soothe his misgivings in advance of the ritual. Now, that antidote was going to preserve his own life.

"I'll take that." Lilia's voice was low and dangerous as he confiscated the antidote. "And I'll take him, too."

"I'm afraid I can't allow—"

"Spare me your nice guy act, Dire, old boy. You just focus on getting Malleus back down here and to safety... Then, you can come and help me deal with this fiend."

"No..."

For all the fear spiking in him, Divus could not summon up the energy to object more strenuously. He almost gave in to the incentive to burn another soul, but before he could, Lilia shoved something in his mouth, effectively muting him and preventing him from speaking anther name.

"What are you doing? He needs... He needs help."

Bless Vil's naive heart.

"He needs to be put down," Lilia snarled. "But even though he doesn't deserve it, I am going to help him. I'm going to rescue his rancid soul, even if it kills him. You can thank me later."

"Wait! What...? Please, you have to tell me... Why is he like this? What's happening to him?"

"He thinks he knows everything," chuckled Lilia darkly. "But he has no idea what he's playing with... There's a reason the ouroboros is depicted devouring its own tail."

"The what...?" Vil had never sounded so desperately confused.

Divus moaned, willing Lilia to shut his damn mouth.

"You think immortality comes for free? Nothing comes for free, Vil. Remember that. Whether it's the lives he stole to prolong his own, or the fragments of his own soul he chews through with every use... Alchemy always has a price."

"Please... I don't understand..."

"Divus Crewel is a murderer, and that was before he blackened his soul with pure evil. Every time he resurrects himself, heals himself, or uses grand magics for inane, daily purposes, a part of him is corrupted. He's not the man he was two years ago. He's not even the man he was yesterday."

"Because of me."

Vil's distraught whisper followed Divus into oblivion as the poisonous curse finally took its toll.

*

Malleus took long, slow breaths in and out, his chest vibrating with Leona's purring. He was shocked by the sheer force the the vibration, and by how relaxed Leona appeared to be, but he also felt calmed and revitalized, himself. There was something about the soothing sensation of Leona's silky, soft ears, and the flexible feel of them under his fingers, of the rolling thunder of that deep purr both in sound and feel... It restored his energy. Lilia always did say that cats were soothing. Malleus just didn't understand how the videos he liked to watch were anywhere near as wonderful as having the real thing napping on top of you...

As his strength began to return, atom by atom, Malleus reluctantly turned his thoughts to less pleasing matters. He was not yet ready to consider the power fluctuations he sensed far below them, but there were other troubling circumstances he ought to contemplate his stance on. Like Vil... For some time now, he had been fascinated and charmed by the Pomfiore dorm leader. He was not so out of touch with his feelings that he could not recognize that his remorse at having harmed Vil, and his heartache at having been left waiting in vain for his academic partner to show up were results of romantic aspirations. Now, having been fully cognizant in those final moments of intimacy with Vil, Malleus was fully aware of the unexpected depth of his feelings for the beautiful human. Even now, there was a memory of joy in him for what they had shared towards the end...

But Vil was not the only man with whom Malleus had shared his body in recent days, and the one who had initiated him in the pleasures of the flesh was presently warming and soothing him in a unique way he suspected no one else could. He loved to square off against the uppity, royal lion...but could that excitement have masked other kinds of feelings, all this time...? Although his first time had been fraught with darkness and vicious instincts, it had also been intense, and left a memorable impact that Malleus wasn't sure he would ever be able to shake off.

Perhaps more important than his own interest in either Vil or Leona...was theirs in him. Leona had been caught up in the vortex of the hex when they engaged in intercourse. Now, he made no move to indicate any personal feelings for Malleus. In fact, his only move upon Malleus had been openly aggressive, a warning bite of some sort. Malleus wasn't sure how to interpret it. Felines appeared to defy all logic in their actions. However, he was sure it meant that Leona was dissatisfied with him in some way. He found himself highly irritated by the bite, and dug his claws into Leona's hip in revenge until those sharp teeth ceased to clamp around his skin. Leona ought to know that Malleus was not his chew toy, regardless of what he had allowed in the height of passion.

Vil, too, had engaged with Malleus for the purposes of purging the hex from him. It was a highly risk-laden magic ritual, and Malleus was deeply grateful for Vil's willingness to see it through...but he had no reason to believe Vil did it for his sake, let alone that his decision indicated any kind of soft spot for Malleus, whatsoever. Before he was overwhelmed and spent himself both physically and magically, Vil had asked if Malleus loved him. Whether he wished to know that for the bolstering of his own ego, or in the hopes of returned affection, Malleus had no way of knowing. Even their sexual chemistry had been largely affected by a drug of some sort that had turned Malleus into an erotic beast for hours on end. It felt as though Vil had reciprocated his feelings... It certainly felt like they were mutually invested in what was passing between them... But Malleus could not know for sure.

"It's stopped," whispered Leona.

Belatedly, Malleus realized that the constant purr had faded away as Leona went still, extending his senses. Malleus had no need to extend anything. He could feel quite clearly that the barrage of magics from below had settled. 

"Listen, lizard..." 

Malleus' fingers and thumb stilled their rubbing motion around Leona's ear.

"Don't...bother saying anything, okay? I just need you to know something before this weird, peaceful bubble gets broken..."

"Then you'd best speak out, for we are beginning to descend," Malleus intoned, pointing out the obvious because he wasn't sure Leona would ever stop babbling enough to notice.

Rising up over Malleus, his own strength obviously somewhat recuperated, Leona wore a grave expression that was in stark contrast to his usual toothy smirks and sour glares. His chest puffed up with a tense breath he huffed out heavily before speaking.

"You're probably too dense to tell, so just so you know... Not cause it matters or anything, it's just a pointless fact..."

"Leona."

"I love you."

Malleus did not entirely understand the happiness that welled in him at that confession. It was bold of Leona, for sure, to profess his love for a naked man still tainted with the bodily fluids of another... He had gone to ridiculous lengths to disclaim any meaning behind the words, and yet, they had meant enough for him to knuckle down and speak them. It was different from Malleus' admission to Vil, earlier. He suffered no shame or embarrassment from admitting that he loved the man who had saved him from madness and destruction. He was sure that many a man was in love with Vil, and that his feelings were of little consequence among them, let alone a burden. Yet, for Leona to so boldly confess that he was in love with Malleus after everything that had passed and in these circumstances... Oh, he was a brave and honest creature, and it was difficult not to admire him for it.

Malleus was hardly aware of the chuckle that escaped him. Slipping his finger under Leona's chin, he drew the man's face toward his until their foreheads bumped together. Leona's eyes were squinted shut, as if he couldn't bear to see Malleus at that moment, so Malleus just moved to press his lips to Leona's forehead. It was all the answer he had for now, but it was also the most honest expression of his confused feelings that he could give. Shifting until his forehead lined up with Leona's again, he indulged in the unorthodox but heartwarming contact until the bed touched down on the ground.

Not a moment later, Leona was torn away from him, kicking and struggling as Crowley raised him up by the collar, depositing him none-too-gently beside a wretched Vil, crying silently and looking almost terrified. It wounded Malleus to see him that way, so he snagged the black, silk robe from the bedpost it was hung over, and walked over to Vil, draping it around his huddled form.

"There, there," he said, using the knuckle of his index finger to brush away a fresh tear. "The worst is over."

"Hrhmm... Prince Draconia, perhaps you would consider taking my coat," offered the headmaster, awkwardly.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Malleus politely declined. It was cold out, so it wouldn't be right to take someone's coat from them, and he would feel strange, accepting an offer of chivalry from the headmaster.

"Fine, my ass!" shouted Leona, sounding much recovered. "In fact, cover your damn ass, will you!?"

"Hm?" Glancing down at himself, Malleus realized that he was, indeed, fully exposed. It was strange, how one could be both aware and unaware of a thing at once. All of a sudden, the knowledge that he was naked took on a whole new meaning. "In that case... Thank you. I accept your offer," he said to Dire Crowley, turning and holding out his arms for the headmaster to bestow the coat on him. He was not nearly as skilled at the task as Sebek or Silver would have been.

Silver... Ah, yes. That was another uncomfortable matter Malleus needed to face now that he had his wits about him again.

"You seem well," Vil said in a soft, flat voice.

"I have you to thank, I understand," Malleus responded, holding out both of his hands to gently guide Vil to his feet. "But it seems you overdid it somewhat," he murmured, taking in the mess of smeared make up, chaotic hair, and general state of disrepair Vil was in. He touched a pale pretty cheek, frowning when Vil flinched. "I am sorry you suffered this for me."

*

Vil wanted to run and hide. Malleus wouldn't stop touching him and staring, and it made him feel sick. He was disgusting. He was a wreck, a failure... He'd screwed up the ritual, giving too much of himself and driving himself to overblott... And now, he knew he'd screwed up Divus, too. Not to mention all he had put Malleus and Leona through.

"I'm the one who needs to apologize," he said, timidly. How could he explain that Divus had nearly ruined their lives, all to eliminate the competition for Vil? "The hex... Everything that came of it... It's all my—"

"What that bastard did isn't on you," growled the deep, rough voice of Leona. So captivated with Malleus' avid attention, Vil had almost forgotten Leona was right there. "That's what you were gonna say, isn't it? Well, it's bullshit." 

"Mr. Kingsch—"

"Stay out of this. Aren't you supposed to be helping Lilia by now? Go fix your mess. We can take care of ourselves," snapped Leona, fuming. When Crowley spluttered and made his somewhat reluctant apologies before practically fleeing, Leona huffed and returned his attention to Vil. "Point is... Crewel made his own choices...and we made ours. I... I'm not...proud...of what I did, but it was my choice, and that's on me."

Once again, Vil saw in his mind's eye the depraved, erotic scene of Leona and his scandalous partner... Leona claimed responsibility, but Vil knew it had all been arranged by Divus, and that changed his perspective, greatly. Most importantly... He now knew what it felt like to have the seed of the incubus coursing through him in a relentless quest for the peaks and ravines of unadulterated ecstasy. He now recognized the exquisite torment in Leona's eyes in that moment.

Before Vil could address the matter any further, he was whisked up into Malleus' firm embrace. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he looked up at the handsome face of the fae prince who seemed so blessedly serene, Vil could only gape.

"What are you doing?" he eventually gasped as Malleus began to carry him away.

"We can't stay here much longer. The academy will soon awaken," Malleus pointed out, the very picture of aplomb. Turning to face the bed, he twirled a wrist beneath Vil, and the bed went up in a plume of green flame.

"Oi! Would you stop using so much magic?" Leona groaned, catching up to them. He followed, tugging at the coat Malleus wore as the fae led them to the magic circle Crowley had drawn.

"Where to?" asked Malleus, glancing down at Vil. "Wherever you want to go, that is where we shall go."

"Stop," Leona ordered. "Let me do it."

He stepped onto the circle and pulled Malleus onto it alongside him, activating the runes and feeding them his magic. Pillars of light rose up around them, and then the world was awash in such streams and flows of light and color. A few moments later, the world stood still once more, but their surroundings were entirely different. The chilly morning air of the coliseum—where the magic circle would have disappeared, and the bed lay in a pile of inconspicuous ashes—was a mere memory, while the warmth and vibrancy of Vil's own room set his heart at ease.

It wasn't until some time later that he felt truly comfortable, though. Bathed and washed, carefully made up, and wrapped up in a thick, padded bathrobe, Vil sipped silently at his cup of tea, served in his very best china. Malleus and Leona were similarly scoured and attired, also partaking of the warm, soothing beverage. It was strange, seeing the two of them dressed so, and lounging about in his room like so, the three of them bunched around the little table by the window.

As the bath water had washed away the grime and shame of the morning, Vil found his mind rinsed clean, as well. He still had many misgivings, but the sheer despair and anxiety that had infected him with the advent of his overblott were gone. He found that the cleansing of his chakra along with Malleus' made it easier to recover from his exhaustion, and to put his concerns in perspective. He was able to think more clearly and strategically, and to make decisions with relative ease.

Thus it was that he took full advantage of an extremely rare situation, paying little heed to the qualms of the conscience. He might never again have either Malleus or Leona so trusting in his presence, deplete of magic and tired enough to speak freely...especially when the effects of the tea began to kick in.

"The thing is, it doesn't matter if I was drugged. I really thought it was Farena. The aphrodisiac didn't kick in until after he kissed me, so there's really no excuse. I just...can't say no to him. He's forceful, and sometimes he can be a bit of a brute...but I like it that way. I like it when he corners me, and takes me, and leaves me with no room to make excuses. I can blame him for it, as if it wasn't what I wanted all along... I know it's despicable, but that's just the kind of guy I am. I think with my dick, not my head...or my heart. Or else, I wouldn't have waited so long to tell you I love you, Malleus. I definitely wouldn't have done it after watching you fuck Vil for hours. Wow. Now that I say it out loud, I sound like a complete idiot. What was I thinking? You two are meant to be together, and here I am, hanging around as if there's any place for me—"

"There is!" Vil cried in a strangled voice, his eyes popping. He would never have imagined Leona's tongue could be loosened so much, so easily! Not only was he being brutally honest, he couldn't seem to stop, at all! "I already told you, didn't I? How I feel...?"

Okay, so Vil wasn't entirely unaffected by the tea. A certain fungus, found growing on mushrooms in the woods around the academy, scraped off, and dried, could be further distilled to create a truth serum not unlike the sodium pentothol Rook liked to play around with in his science experiments. This fungus was a discovery of Vil's, and he had included small doses in his regime for about a year now, but he had not yet tested the serum out on anyone else. His chemical assessment was that it contained similar properties to sodium pentothol, such as fostered the ability to inhibit one's desire to hide the truth, and induce a relaxed state that would eventually culminate in a very good sleep. The differences were that it would not affect the memory as sodium pentothol did, and also that it could be potentially fatal at a much lesser dose to the truth drug. This tea was designed to counter its more drastic effects while further blocking inhibitors.

In Vil, the tea produced a subtle leaning toward honesty and urge to correct untruths. In Leona, it apparently negated all will to conceal anything at all, until his tongue was wagging freely, spilling his every secret. That wasn't what Vil had intended. He just wanted Leona to stop hiding from himself and get whatever was stifling him off his chest.

"Tell me more about this brother of yours," hummed Malleus, his eyes narrowed with interest, his lips curled up into a grin behind the teacup raised before his face. He drank from it, his eyes dropping to the surface of the tea for a moment, before lifting to Leona again. "He's the king of the Afterglow Savannah, no? I've heard that lions mate rather aggressively. Does he do so with the whole pride, or are you the exception?"

Malleus didn't seem in the least bit shocked at Leona's avid confessions, nor did he seem much affected by the tea. There was a sleepy look in his eyes and the tiniest glimmer of danger in their green depths that implied he knew there was something in the brew, but he seemed content to drag out all of Leona's truths while baring none of his own.

"Just me... What? Wait... What? Why the hell would you ask that? Don't you...care that we're brothers?"

Any other time, Leona would be shouting. As it was, the tea and a long few days had him as mellow as molasses.

"I find lions quite fascinating," murmured Malleus. "I have done some research into their reproductive tendencies, so it does not surprise me to learn that therian siblings might engage in intercourse, as well. I'm quite intrigued in hearing about the progression of such a development, in fact."

"We're not lions, Malleus! We're people! Just like you and... Well, maybe not...like you..."

"No, I daresay my kind are not like any others...but nor are yours. There is nothing to be ashamed of in exploring your instinctual nature. In fact, I confess myself fascinated by the unusual habits you have described. As you are different from the fae, and different yet from humans and the like, it is hardly disturbing that your conventions should be different. Nor...would it be unthinkable for you to harbor desire for multiple others, as is also in the nature of lions."

"Malleus... I don't think you fully understand Leona's situation," Vil mediated, before Leona could fight off the lethargy of the drug and get more furious than flustered. "There may be some truth in that the animal nature of lions is present in their therian counterparts...but Leona's people have struggled to rise above such instincts, don't you see? Such relations...are not as common among therians as you seem to think."

"You don't approve, then?" Malleus asked, smoothly turning the magnifying glass upon Vil.

"I'm...jealous." Vil gave in to his urge to speak the truth, and it did feel especially good under the influence of the tea. "I've...had feelings for Leona for a long time, and it hurt me to see him having sex with someone like that... Someone he shouldn't." It wasn't only the tea. Speaking to Malleus rather than addressing Leona directly made it easier to say what was on his mind.

"Hypocrite."  
"You're one to talk."

Malleus and Leona both spoke at once, piercing Vil with their undeniable words. They had a point.

"Divus...meant a lot to me," Vil said quietly, consciously using the past tense. "Without him, I wouldn't be half of what I am, today. My career... My skills... I owe them to him."

"I do not think either of us, nor anyone else could ever fully agree with that assessment...but I accept that he has been something special to you that nobody else could understand," Malleus said softly. "However, I have yet to decide how I will handle his treason. I must confer with Lilia, first."

"He's not your subject, Malleus. You have no authority over him," Vil pointed out, shuddering inwardly at defending the man he currently loathed.

Malleus simply smiled serenely and disappeared once more behind his cup. He was annoyingly resilient to Vil's signature brew.

They talked around in circles for a while, Malleus taking advantage of Leona's truthful state to draw out more details of his incestuous relations with King Farena, and leading the conversation this way and that. Before long, Vil's cup was empty, and he sighed, feeling his eyelids growing heavy.

"A strange predicament we find ourselves in, hm?" muttered Malleus, watching Vil's chin droop. "Each of us has confessed to the love of another...yet I have yet to hear the nature of your feelings towards me, Vil... I told you I loved you. The least you could do is enlighten me."

That sneaky bastard. He'd waited for Vil to consume the maximum amount of tea before ambushing him with this cruel question...

"You're...the most annoying...man I've ever met," Vil whispered. Not a word of it was a lie. "I guess I have a type..." His eyes slid toward Leona, who had fallen fast asleep sitting up in his chair, head thrown back, the pink of his tongue peeking out between his lips in a stupidly cute tableau. Vil could stay silent. If he didn't speak, the truth would not come out...but he wanted to speak the truth. He craved the release of it... And he did not fear the consequences. That was the frightening power of the drug. There was no fear of the truth, and that, in itself, was terrifying. "You're everything I aspire to, only you make it seem so effortless, and in some things it is... I hate that about you. I hate you so much... But...with love. I can't believe I'm saying this...but...I love you, too."

The last thing Vil saw before his eyes fell closed and he collapsed forward over the table was Malleus gathering the three teacups onto the central tray and smiling smugly. Stupid, gorgeous jerk. If he didn't have the decency to pass out first, he'd better at least carry Vil and Leona to the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watched a fascinating docuseries recently called Pain, Pus, and Poison. Highly recommended if you're planning to (write about) murder(ing) somebody, or healing, drugging, or operating on them, for that matter. :p

**Author's Note:**

> Join me at https://discord.gg/WUeUwH7 a Twisted Wonderfic community! 
> 
> Discuss your favorite pairings, hear first-hand about updates, see teasers, promote your own work, check references, bask in your ships, get game tips, and more!


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